


Milkovich and Beau

by country13



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Boys Kissing, Dogs, Drinking, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Ian is a veterinarian, Inspired by Shameless (US), M/M, Mickey is a detective, Murder Mystery, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Oral Sex, Pining, Power Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Rough Sex, Sex, Shower Sex, Smut, Top Ian Gallagher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-06-19 19:46:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 43,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15517269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/country13/pseuds/country13
Summary: Mickey is a detective with the Chicago Police Department.  Tired of living in the big city and being haunted by his past, he accepts another job in a small beach town in California.  After a close friend of his is murdered, Mickey realizes he may have to postpone his move because he's not leaving Chicago until his friend's killer is brought to justice. What Mickey didn't count on was having to take care of his friend's dog, a Bull Mastiff named Beau, who was the closest thing he had to a witness in the case.  Mickey didn't know a thing about dogs, so he immediately takes him to the town veterinarian, Dr. Ian Gallagher.  Mickey tries to fight his attraction to the hot vet given the fact that he would be leaving town soon.  And Ian finds out about the reputation of the Milkovichs and is worried that getting involved with Mickey may spell trouble. But before long, the attraction becomes too great for both of them and they can't fight their feelings anymore. As both his relationship with Ian and the murder investigation heat up, Mickey will come to find that the dog and Ian will both give him something he didn't know he needed.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a true AU where Ian and Mickey meet for the first time. This is actually a Turner and Hooch AU inspired by the movie. I hope you enjoy it. Any typos and/or errors are my own. Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.

            There were two things in this world that Mickey Milkovich was absolutely certain of.  He loved his job as a detective and he hated dogs.  Well, maybe hate was a strong word, but he really didn’t fucking like them.  They were needy, desperate little shits who always demanded your attention.  They were messy and chewed up all of your shit while you were at work all day, earning the money to feed their asses.  Subsequently, they were bottomless pits who ate you out of house and home.  And Mickey didn’t trust anything that would lick its own ass and then lick you in the face.  That shit just wasn’t natural.

            Mickey grew up on the mean streets of South Side Chicago, with a meth head mom who had overdosed by the time he had reached his teens, and a homophobic, racist prick of a father who spent more time in jail than he did at home and when he was at home, the Milkovich siblings had the bruises and scars to show for it.  They were basically on their own from early on in life, with Mickey doing what he could to provide for his brothers and sister.  Hell, Mickey could barely scrape enough money together to feed his family.  How in the fuck could he ever afford to feed a dog? Besides, dogs belonged to middle class McMansion Owners of America with white picket fences and perfectly manicured lawns.  South Side white trash didn’t have the luxury for such things as family pets. 

            Currently, Mickey was remembering one of the more important reasons he didn’t like dogs as he was laid out on the front porch of his old friend, Max Henley’s house with his bull mastiff, Beau’s mouth attached to his neck.  Mickey tried gasping for breath, but the dog had such a death grip on his throat, that breathing was an impossible feat. Mickey flailed about, but to no avail. The dog was growling and the sound was reverberating throughout Mickey’s body, while the dog’s drool was getting all over his clean, white dress shirt.  But for the moment, those problems seemed to pale in comparison to the not being able to breathe part. 

           “Beau! Drop him! Beau! Get off of him!” Max yelled while pulling roughly on his collar.  Mickey panicked, thinking for sure that this dog was going to rip his Adam’s apple right out with his bare teeth if Max pulled on him, but thankfully, the dog obeyed his owner’s command, released his throat, and walked back inside the house.  Mickey coughed and sputtered, trying to get his bearings, and then stood up slowly, careful not make any quick movements.  That’s a mistake he would only make once, having learned that lesson from his quick jog up the front steps of Max’s house. “Mickey, I’m so sorry, Beau’s just been extra ornery lately.  Are you okay?”

            Mickey put his hand to his throat to check for puncture wounds, positive he would have blood gushing everywhere.  When he discovered he didn’t, he breathed a sigh of relief.  Max handed him a rag to wipe the drool off his neck. “Yeah, Max, I’m alright.  That damn dog just made me shit my pants, but you know, other than that, I’m great.”

            Max just let out a bellowing laugh and slapped Mickey on the back.  “Oh, hell, Beau ain’t nothing but a big old baby.  Sweetest dog you’ll ever meet.  He’s just protective of me, that’s all.”

            “Yeah, he’s real fucking sweet,” Mickey muttered sarcastically.  He glanced over and noticed his partner, Donald Phelps, was still in the car, where he had retreated to when Beau ran out suddenly, leaving Mickey to fend for himself.  Mickey couldn’t help but hear his loud cackling laugh at his expense.  He looked over at him and flipped him off quickly before following Max inside the house.

            Max had been a good friend of Mickey’s since he first started as a detective for the Chicago Police Department. He was in his seventies now, hard of hearing and half blind with nobody to look out for him except Beau and Mickey.  He was South Side, born and bred, but had no family. That Mickey knew of, anyway.  They had first met when Max called in a tip about some trespassers at the mechanic shop across the street from his house.  When Mickey showed up to ask him questions, they got to talking and have been friends ever since, Mickey coming by to check on him every so often. 

That’s why Beau’s behavior was so unexpected.  Beau knew him from his numerous visits, so he didn’t know what prompted today’s attack. Yet another reason why Mickey didn’t like dogs, they couldn’t be trusted. Or maybe Beau was becoming as old and ornery as his owner.  But regardless, Max had become like a father to him, more so than his real one ever was.

      Max and Mickey sat in his small, unkempt living room, with Beau lying at Max’s feet, watching Mickey closely, shooting the shit until Mickey finally informed Max of the reason for this particular visit. “Max, I don’t think Don, my replacement, is going to be coming around to visit you like I did once I leave.  He’s scared to death of your dog.” Beau’s head came up like he understood what Mickey said, then a low growl escaped from him as if on cue. “I just can’t figure out why,” Mickey mumbled as he watched Beau skeptically.

       Mickey had told Donald about Beau and he had immediately shut down any chances that Donald would continue Mickey’s frequent visits to Max’s house.  He had told Mickey in no uncertain terms that he was deathly afraid of dogs and there was no way in hell he was coming around Max’s house as long as the dog was there. Mickey was surprised that Donald had gotten out of the car today, but he had said he would as long as Mickey was there.  Yeah, see how that worked out. So much for solidarity.

Max looked up at Mickey with confusion on his face. “Leave? What do you mean, you’re leaving?”

“I’ve accepted a job in Cypress Beach, California.”

Max looked at Mickey, shock registering on his face. “Well, I’ll be damned, Mickey.  Why?”

Mickey sighed.  He loved being a detective, but he needed a break from all the chaos and dangerous crime that came with living in a big city.  He was surrounded by it growing up in the South Side with his fucked up family, and now surrounded by it day in and day out on the job.  It was just becoming too much and he needed a reprieve. He was more than ready to slow things down, and some small crimes and misdemeanors in a small beach town was just what he needed.

Mickey explained all this to Max, who seemed to understand, although he hated to see Mickey go and said as much.  It made Mickey feel happy and sad all at the same time.  Happy that someone was going to actually miss him, but sad because he was going to miss the old man too.

 “So, what’s going on over there today?” Ever since Max had reported the trespassers across the street, he had called in various complaints for the same mechanic shop, although Mickey wondered if it was more for the company than any actual suspicious activity.

“There are some strange noises going on over there at night,” Max answered as he walked slowly to the kitchen, his old arthritic knees screaming in protest.

“Well, what kind of noises are you hearing, Max?” Mickey had to at least humor him, however skeptical he was.

“I don’t hear them, you know my hearing isn’t what it used to be.” Just then Max walked back in from the kitchen and placed a plate of chocolate chip cookies and an empty bowl down in front of Beau.  Mickey looked up at him questioningly when he noticed the can of beer in his hands.  Max opened the beer and poured it into the bowl for the dog. Mickey just shook his head and smiled.

“Breakfast of champs, huh?” Mickey snickered.

“Hell, yeah.  Beau loves it.” 

“I see,” Mickey smirked as he watched Beau scarf down the cookies in a couple seconds and then proceed to drink the beer, lapping his tongue at it thirstily.  If Mickey liked dogs, he might find it a little endearing.  “So if you don’t hear these noises, then how the hell do you know they’re happening, Max?” Mickey asked, perplexed.

“Beau tells me.  He lets me know, don’t you, boy?” Max reached down and scratched Beau on his unusually large head, causing Beau to stop drinking his beer and close his eyes and make contented noises at the contact.

Mickey stood to leave knowing he had a lot of work waiting for him back at the precinct.  “Okay, Max, well, I will have it checked out for you, okay?”

“Thanks, Mickey, I appreciate it.  We’re really going to miss you around here.”  Mickey turned to look again at his friend as he made his way to the front door, Beau following behind him, making Mickey nervous again. It was then that Mickey noticed just how dirty and nasty the dog was.  Why on earth anybody would want something that filthy in their house was beyond him. “I’m going to miss you too, Max.” He left the house, closing the door quietly behind him. He really was going to miss that man.  His dog, not so much.

_________________________________________________________________________________

When Mickey made it back to the car, Donald once again broke out in hysterical laughter at Mickey’s run in with Beau earlier. “It wasn’t fucking funny asshole!” Mickey exclaimed.

“Oh, yes it was, man.  Funniest shit I’ve seen in years. “More laughter. 

“Well, at least I went in there.  Your chicken shit ass wouldn’t even get out of the damn car.”

“Nope, and not gonna either.  Did you tell him?”

Mickey grunted.  He hated that Donald wasn’t going to keep up the visits with Max. He understood considering his aversion to dogs too, but he had hoped that Donald could look past that, but no such luck apparently. “Fuck, yes, I told him, okay?”

Donald, Mickey’s replacement, had been riding with him for the last couple weeks to learn the ropes of the Chicago Police Department.  He came from a small town south of Chicago and needed more exciting detective work than what he found there.  I guess he and Mickey were opposites in that way.  Mickey was looking to get away from all the hustle and bustle and crime of big city life.  He had had enough.  He had seen enough excitement for ten lifetimes. Luckily, Donald was excited about being in Chicago and the crime that came with it. His enthusiasm made Mickey less apprehensive about leaving.  With how much Donald seemed to love the job, Mickey had no doubt that the fine folks of Chicago would be in good hands.

            Mickey and Donald had just gotten back to the precinct and settled into their stations when they got a call about some money that had washed up on Rainbow Beach in South Side Chicago.  Donald ran out of the front door of the precinct so fast, you would’ve thought the damn building was on fire.  He really was too eager for his own good. “Come on, Mick, let’s go!”

Mickey went through the motions-another day, another dollar for him.  He longed for the days of stolen bicycles at schools and other small time crimes.  Three more days.  He couldn’t wait. “I’m coming, keep your pants on, Jesus!”

            When they arrived at Rainbow Beach, a woman and her son identified themselves as the ones who found the money.  The money was rubber banded together and sealed in a Ziploc bag. It looked to be about twenty five thousand dollars or so.  After asking the woman and her son a few questions, they secured the money and left the scene to bring it back to the precinct. Money found like this could be any number of things, Mickey knew, drug money being the most prominent offense Mickey had seen in all his years on the force.  

Donald was practically giddy, absolutely convinced that something suspicious was going on.  Yeah, as much as Mickey loved Donald’s enthusiasm, sometimes it could be annoying as fuck. “Okay, Inspector Gadget, calm the fuck down.  We don’t know anything yet.  Most likely, nothing will ever come of it.” They were once again in the car, headed back to the precinct.

“Twenty five thousand dollars?! That’s a big fucking deal, Mick.”

Poor Donald.  He just didn’t know yet.  Mickey had dealt with amounts more than ten times that.  This was Mickey Mouse stuff.  Donald would learn as he gained more experience. He didn’t know what he was in for yet.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Mickey woke up groggily the next morning, squinting at the sunlight peaking in through his blinds.  His alarm clock was making him blaringly aware that it was time to get up.  He reached over to his night stand and turned it off.  After a couple minutes of getting his bearings, he finally got up and made his way to his bathroom to begin his morning routine. 

This was his favorite time of the day.  This was his time.  He made his coffee, ate his breakfast of toast and jelly, read his newspaper, brushed his teeth and flossed, and jumped in the shower before dressing for work.  Every morning for the past several years, he had done the exact same thing.  It felt fucking great to have that structure. 

His job as a detective had afforded him the opportunity to buy a small house in a nice neighborhood, something he never in a million years believed he would ever have.  Growing up on the South Side with his brothers and sister and their asshole father, routine and structure were as alien to them as anything could possibly be. Hell, they didn’t even get to take baths that much, considering that the water bill and the gas bill sometimes didn’t get paid for months. The routine he had established for himself now was another way he was distancing himself from that rough, bad ass kid with the knuckle tattoos who flew by the seat of his pants and never knew from one day to the next what shit he was going to get into. Those days were long gone.

Nowadays, when he takes a shower, he revels in the hot water running down his back and the steam lifting off him and floating through the air of his nice, clean bathroom.  When he opens his refrigerator and sees it full of food, he sends out a little thank you to the universe each time, remembering those times growing up when he didn’t know where his or his siblings’ next meal would come from.

Mickey didn’t talk to his siblings much anymore.  They had all moved off and done their own thing.  They had survived their hell of a childhood and gotten out, and Mickey couldn’t be prouder. Mickey thought he would be the last one to still be in Chicago, but here he was.  But not for long.  He loved his little house here and the life he had built, but he valued his freedom more and he felt a move away from the place that was a constant reminder of his past was just what he needed.

Mickey’s dad, Terry Milkovich was a loathsome, horrible person who was the most racist and homophobic prick he had ever met.  So when Terry came home one day to find Mickey fucking a guy, a black guy at that, in his bed, Terry had flown off the handle and beaten the guy up pretty bad and also beat Mickey within an inch of his life. 

Luckily, Terry was convicted and sentenced to prison for a very long time.  It was such a struggle for the Milkovich kids to make it, having to fend for themselves, but Mickey did the best he could to take care of them.  They were just so relieved to be rid of Terry, they would have struggled through anything and everything, and they did.

Moving to another town, another state even, and starting over fresh was further separating Mickey from that part of his life and he was excited.  Besides, it’s not like he had a boyfriend or family tying him to Chicago.  He had no reason to stay there. Plus, he loved the idea of going where no one knew him, where he could literally start over with no one looking down on him for being a South Side thug from the wrong side of the tracks.  He wasn’t that guy anymore, but at least this way, he wouldn’t have to work so goddamn hard to prove it all the time.

Mickey had shined his shoes and dressed in his clean, pressed suit for work and was putting his phone and keys in his pocket when his phone began buzzing. He looked at the screen to see it was Donald calling.  Damn, what the hell did he want already?

“Hey, Don, what’s up?” Mickey greeted with faux cheeriness.

“Um,” Donald began uncertainly, “I take it you haven’t heard.”

“Heard what?” Mickey’s skin prickled as he waited for Donald’s news.  He could tell by his tone that it wasn’t good.

“Mickey, it’s Max.  He’s been murdered.”


	2. Chapter Two

            Mickey and Donald walked briskly up to Max’s house, the scene already buzzing with multiple police units and emergency personnel. Donald stayed behind in Max’s yard to talk to the police officers while Mickey walked on into the house.  Mickey stepped across the threshold and stopped in his tracks. What he saw made him gasp.  Mickey had been to more crime scenes than he could count.  He’d seen his fair share of blood and gore from victims who had gotten killed in all manner of different ways.  He had seen it all.  But this was the first time he had seen someone he knew personally lying dead in a pool of blood.  And, he had to admit, it freaked him out a little bit. No matter how much of a professional you were or how badass you thought you were, seeing someone you knew and were friends with, just lying there lifeless, would rattle anybody’s nerves. Especially considering he was just talking to him yesterday. He just couldn’t believe it. Max was gone.

            Max was lying face down in the middle of his living room with his trusty dog, Beau, lying beside him, whimpering pitifully.  From what Mickey could tell upon first inspection, it looked like a gunshot wound to the chest and the exit wound was in the middle of his back. Mickey stepped toward the body to get a closer look, when Beau all of a sudden jumped up on all fours and started barking loudly and growling at the detective.

            Mickey immediately put his hands up in surrender.  “Whoa, easy there, Beau.  I’m just trying to help Max, okay?” Beau seemed to get angrier at Mickey’s words, growling even louder. He put his front paws on Max’s back, daring Mickey to come closer. Mickey reached in his pocket for a chocolate chip cookie.  He brought the cookies, figuring they would probably come in handy in trying to get Beau to cooperate, but given his current state, Mickey wasn’t sure how effective they would be.  But it was worth a try.

He took one and reached his hand out gingerly to the large dog.  “Here ya go, boy.  Chocolate chip cookies, your fav.” He shook the cookie at him trying to get him to come toward him and away from Max’s body.  All of a sudden, Beau took off running toward Mickey, barking and growling vicously.  “Beau! Beau! Stop!”

            When Beau kept running, not heeding to Mickey’s commands, and he realized the dog was coming dangerously close to him, he took off running back outside, cursing the entire time.  “Shit! Fuck! You crazy ass dog!” 

            Mickey heard an eruption of laughter as he was running.  He looked over to see the all of the police officers doubled over, laughing at his expense.  Thankfully, two animal control officers came to his rescue and grabbed Beau and placed him in slip leads.  Mickey hunched over, gasping for breath, grateful for his two uniformed saviors, who were now struggling with the monster dog themselves. He still heard faint snickering and when he looked over at the group of officers, they were trying to stifle their laughter.  He saw Donald standing next to them, doing the same. He was not in the mood for their shit today. Not only had he almost been mauled by a grieving dog, but he had also just witnessed the lifeless body of his good friend. “What the fuck are you dipshits laughing at? Why are you all just standing around with your dicks in your hands? Get back to work!”

            Everyone scrambled to get back to what they were doing.  Donald came over to talk to Mickey.  “You okay, boss?”

Mickey furrowed his eyebrows at his partner and scowled at him. “Oh, yeah, just great.  Thanks for your concern.”  Donald started with his apology but Mickey just cut him off.  “Just tell me what the fuck you’ve found out.”

“Well, everyone that’s been interviewed says they didn’t see or hear anything suspicious.”

“That’s bullshit.  No witnesses? Come on.”

“They said they heard the dog barking, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.  But what I don’t understand is, how did they not hear the gunshot? It was a gunshot wound, right?”

“Hell, Phelps, this is the South Side, gunshots are as common as car horns here.  Nobody bats an eye at that shit.” Donald had a lot to learn about life in South Chicago.  It was a lot different than the small town he came from.  He would learn the ins and outs with more experience, but you didn’t really, truly get it unless you were born and raised here.  It was in your blood.  It would always be in Mickey’s blood, no matter how far away he was. “I’m going to go inside and gather some more evidence.”

Mickey waved him off dismissively as he glanced over to see that Beau had now led the officers to Max’s front porch and they were still visibly struggling with him.  “Come on, boy.  It’s okay.  We got you,” he heard one of the officers say, even though it didn’t look like they did by any means.

            “His name’s Beau,” Mickey bellowed as he walked toward them.  The least they could do was call him by his damn name. Where the hell did that come from? It had to be sympathy for the mutt.  It couldn’t have been easy watching your owner get killed and not being able to do anything about it.   Well, if Mickey had anything to say about it, Max’s killer would be found and brought to justice.

            Beau pulled mightily away from the officers, trying to break free from the leashes they each held.  He dragged them over to one side of the porch.  As they continued to struggle to guide Beau down the steps and to their awaiting animal control van, Mickey watched in horror as they yanked and pulled at him.  “Stop yanking on him, dammit!” The officer closest to the end of the porch got distracted by Mickey yelling and briefly let go of his leash and Beau pushed him back and his body tumbled over the side of the porch, breaking the wooden railing in the process.  “Shit!”

            Mickey ran up and grabbed the leash that was now thrashing around on the porch floor.  The other officer who still had a hold of Beau looked at Mickey with a panic-stricken face.  “This dog is fucking nuts.  You think you can handle him, be my fucking guest!”

 He then ran around the side of the house to help his partner up and Mickey watched helplessly as they walked off, got in the van and drove off. “Hey! Come back you fuckheads! I can’t handle this monster on my own!”

Mickey looked down and met eyes with Beau as he pulled away from him.  He grabbed both leads and tried to guide him down the porch steps. “Beau, look, you’ve got to work with me here. Let’s just get in the car, okay?” What the fuck was he saying? Was he really going to put this Mongolian in his car? And what the hell was he going to do with him then? He didn’t know the first thing about dogs.  He figured the first thing he should do was to take him to the vet.  That made sense, right? Maybe the vet could take him or know of somewhere he could drop him off.

Finally, Beau seemed to calm down enough for Mickey to walk him to his squad car and put him in the backseat.  He continued to bark incessantly but at least he wasn’t growling at the moment.  Mickey ran into the house and helped Donald finish up his notes and then they walked back to the car.  Donald hesitated when he saw Beau in the backseat.  “Oh, hell no.  I ain’t getting in the car with that thing.”

“Would you grow up, Phelps, he’s not going to hurt you.” Mickey really didn’t know what Beau was capable of at the moment, but they didn’t have time for arguing.  They had a case to solve.

Donald hesitantly opened the car door.  “You know dogs don’t like black people, right?”

“That’s bullshit, Phelps.  Just don’t act like you’re scared around him and you’ll be fine.” Was that true? He thought he had heard something one time about how dogs could smell fear. Hell, Mickey was just talking out of his ass really, trying to get Donald in the car so they could get going.  It must have worked because he finally got in, even though he watched Beau carefully over his shoulder the whole time.  Beau had finally stopped barking and was sitting in the middle of the backseat, his head bumping the top of the car.  Damn, this dog was huge.  “There, see? He’s not going to hurt you.”

Donald looked over his shoulder and Beau’s head was right there, white flegmy drool hanging from both sides of his mouth.  Just then, one of the strands of drool fell from Beau’s mouth and onto the shoulder of Donald’s coat jacket. “Ugh, gross! Damn!” Mickey couldn’t help but laugh.  In fact, he laughed so hard, his eyes were watering. Donald scowled at Mickey. “Shut the fuck up, man.”

“Hey, that’s what you get for laughing at me earlier, prick.” Donald just rolled his eyes while trying to wipe the drool off his coat. _Way to go, Beau_ , Mickey silently thought.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Mickey had dropped Donald off at the precinct so he could get a start on the investigation of Max’s murder.  Mickey had looked up on his phone for the vet closest to him and he found one called South Side Vet, Dr. Ian Gallagher.  Wow, original name.  So he and Beau were headed there to get him looked at and hopefully find a place for him. Beau was sitting quietly in his same spot in the backseat, looking around.   Mickey was just glad he wasn’t barking or growling anymore.  The drool he had lost on Donald’s coat was replaced now by another strand hanging loosely.  It really was fucking gross.  As if hearing Mickey’s thoughts, Beau shook his head from side to side all of a sudden, drool splashing all over the inside of the car. “Goddammit! Hey! Only on Donald’s coat!  Not in my car, got it?” Why in the fuck was he talking to a dog? He really had finally lost his damn mind.  Dogs can’t understand shit you say to them.  What was wrong with him?

He pulled up to where his GPS led him, but it looked like a house.  This can’t be the right place can it? It was a white house with green shutters, a front yard complete with rose bushes and a nice manicured walkway that led up to the front door.  Beside the front door, he saw the sign for South Side Vet.  Granted Mickey had never been to a vet before, but this was nothing like he pictured it.  He pictured an office building with drab colors, bars in the windows, and metal siding as protection from gunshots and a rundown parking lot. Pretty much every other business that existed in the South Side.  This definitely wasn’t that. 

Mickey got out of the car and carefully opened the rear door and quickly grabbed Beau’s leads so he wouldn’t try to run off.  Beau just sniffed around, seemingly curious about where they were.  “Come on, boy. Good boy.” Mickey watched as Beau jumped down from the seat and landed with a hard thud on the concrete sidewalk. So far, so good.  Just as Mickey shut the car door, a long haired white and brown dog ran by them.  Mickey couldn’t help but noticed how beautiful the dog was, even though he wasn’t sure what kind of dog it was.  One thing he was sure of was that it was a female, because before he knew what was happening, Beau was running after her along the sidewalk, dragging Mickey with him.  “Beau! Beau! Stop! You stupid dog!”

Mickey’s cries were unheard as Beau barreled down the walkway, around to the side of the clinic in the direction the other dog had gone.  When Mickey rounded the corner of the clinic, he spotted a side door with a heavy rubber flap in the bottom section of it that swung in and out, allowing for animals to come and go. Beau followed behind her until she disappeared into the “doggie door.” Thank God.  But instead of stopping, like Mickey thought he would, Beau continued on, determined to catch up to his new female companion. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

Beau ran through the doggie door, but Mickey still had a hold of his leash, so his arm went through the small space but his head slammed against the door several times until eventually, he was able to stick his head in the doggie door as well.  However, he got stuck in the doggie door while still trying to hold on to Beau’s leash as he pulled relentlessly trying to continue on his search.  “Beau! You stupid fucking dog! I’m gonna kill you!”  With each jerk of the leash, Mickey’s midsection was squished by the small square hole in the door.  “Ow! Shit!”

A man appeared out of nowhere and proceeded to grab the leash from Mickey. “Oh my god, he’s bleeding.  How long’s he been bleeding?” he exclaimed as he struggled with Beau on the leash.

“Not long enough!” Mickey quipped.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” the mystery man asked as he finally got control of Beau and took him to a room on the other side of the house.

“Nothing a fucking gun won’t cure!” Mickey yelled, flustered. He was finally able to free himself from the doggie door and stand up, but remained right inside the door as he waited. Hell, he couldn’t shoot Beau.  He was the closest thing they had right now to a witness in Max’s murder. He had to have seen who shot Max and considering they didn’t find another dead body, he assumed the murderer somehow got away from Beau unscathed. Besides, he wouldn’t really ever shoot a dog, even though he might think long and hard about it.

Speaking of long and hard, after a few minutes, the man who saved Mickey from the runaway dog walked out of the room where Beau was and headed toward him.  This must be the vet.  Ian Gallagher wasn’t it? Mickey was just now able to get a good look at him. Damn he was good looking. He was tall and thin but even with his white lab coat on, you could see his defined arms and flat abs.  His hair was fire red and his eyes were a sparking green. His face was absolutely beautiful, except for the scowl that was currently residing there.

“Those wounds needed stitching.  What’s the dog’s name?”

“Uh, Beau, Beau is his name,” Mickey answered, surprised by the vet’s vehemence.  He looked at Mickey with disgust.

“The dog is filthy, he has a poor diet.  When’s the last time he saw a vet?”

“Uh, well, I don’t know,” Mickey sputtered. 

“Well, that’s borderline neglect and abuse, Mr. ……” The vet looked at him expectantly.

“Milkovich,” Mickey answered. He put his hands up in mock surrender.  “Look, you don’t understand.  That isn’t my dog.  I’m Mickey Milkovich, I’m a detective with the Chicago Police Department.” Mickey pulled his badge from his pocket and displayed it to him.  Ian still looked at him indignantly but with a little less derision. “This dog belonged to a friend of mine who was murdered last night.”

The vet’s facial expression changed from anger to pity in an instant.  “Oh, I’m sorry about your friend.  And I’m sorry I overreacted.  I just can’t stand to see animals mistreated.” The vet visibly relaxed at Mickey’s explanation.

“No, I understand.  What kind of vet would you be if you did, right?”

The vet smiled for the first time and Mickey thought it was just about the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. They locked eyes and Mickey felt electricity crackle between them, if only for a fleeting moment.  The look the vet gave him made Mickey think that he felt it too.  Only one problem.  Mickey didn’t even know if the vet was gay. And he was horny as hell, which could be obstructing his gaydar.

“I’m Ian Gallagher, this is my vet clinic.” Mickey grabbed Ian’s outstretched hand gingerly, amazed at how soft and how big his hands were, his practically swallowing Mickey’s whole. God what those hands could do to him. They held hands a little longer than pleasantries called for, but Mickey definitely wasn’t complaining.  

Since Beau was pretty much the only witness they had for their investigation right now, and Mickey knew next to nothing about dogs, he figured this was as good a time as any to find out how they could use Beau in their investigation.  Ian was a professional with animals.  If he didn’t know, who would? Plus it would give Mickey an excuse to spend a little extra time with the handsome red head. Why the hell was he thinking like that? He would be gone in the next few weeks.  The last thing he needed was to get mixed up with someone now.  But, he wouldn’t be opposed to a quick fuck or two before he left.  Okay, he needed to get away from that train of thought and fast. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Gallagher. This is a nice place you have here.” Mickey noticed as he scanned the room that the inside was even more beautiful and well taken care of than the outside. The vet finally released Mickey’s hand, although it almost seemed like he was reluctant to do so.  Probably just wishful thinking on Mickey’s part.

“Oh, thanks,” Ian said, instinctively following Mickey’s gaze.  “We’ve worked hard to make this place feel more like a home than an office.  That way the customers and their animals would feel more at ease.” Their eyes finally came back to each other and the redhead smiled shyly and added, “And please, call me, Ian.”

 Mickey blushed slightly at the vet’s request for the informality, but then quickly remembered why he was there and got back into detective mode. “Can I ask you a question about the dog?”

“Sure, go ahead.” Ian waved his hand in front of him, indicating for Mickey to continue.

“We have reason to believe that Beau may have been a witness to the murder of his owner, my friend.  Can a dog identify someone from a photo or a mugshot?”

Ian scoffed. “You don’t know much about dogs do you?”

“No, I’ve never had one.”

Ian folded his arms in front of him as he examined Mickey with interest. “Not even as a kid?”

“No,” Mickey answered.  God, Ian was one of those North Side rich bitches.  Why in the fuck was he slumming it with a vet clinic in the South Side? Mickey had no chance in hell with the doggie doctor, even if he was gay, which was probably unlikely.

“Dogs can’t see in two dimensions.  They can recognize a scent or a voice, but not a photo.”

“Impressive,” Mickey nodded.  “Wow, you’re really good with animals.”  If there was no chance for a hook up with the fine doctor, Mickey was hoping his sweet words would at least convince the vet to take Beau off his hands.  He had the whole setup here which was tailor made for dogs, literally.  He had no room or time for a dog, especially one like Beau.  Plus, he would be leaving in a few weeks. He didn’t know anything about dogs, where Ian knew everything.  It was perfect.  If only he could convince Ian of that.

“Well, I’m a vet.  I kinda have to be right?”  They chuckled lightly together, but then suddenly Ian’s whole demeanor changed and he looked at Mickey skeptically, his eyebrows raised.  “You’re buttering me up for something aren’t you?”  

Shit. “Well, I was just thinking,” Mickey began, “that the dog would be much better off with someone like you than with someone like me.”

The vet techs came out of the room with Beau then.  He was cleaned up and much calmer.  He trotted over to Mickey like he was expecting to leave with him.  Well, not if he had anything to say about it.

“I can’t take a dog like Beau.  I don’t have the room or the time to commit to him,” Mickey reasoned. Ian opened the front door and guided Mickey and Beau out as he followed behind them. 

Beau followed obediently beside Mickey as they walked to his car.  _Oh sure, now you act like the perfect dog, you traitor_ , Mickey thought.

“You single?” Ian asked. Mickey stopped in his tracks on the sidewalk and turned to face Ian.  Hmmm. So he is gay. Now we’re talking.

“Yes,” Mickey smirked.

“House or apartment?” What the fuck? As long as he had a bed, why did it matter? Was he that much of a snob that he only fucked in houses?

“House.”

“Girlfriend?” Mickey didn’t know where he was going with this line of questioning. 

“No, I’m gay.” Might as well just put it out there.

“Oh, ok. Boyfriend?” Wow, this guy really had no shame.  Mickey could definitely get on board with that.

“No.” Ian’s eyebrows rose at Mickey’s response, and Mickey thought he saw the hint of a blush appear on his cheeks.

“So, you live alone then?”

“Yes.  What is this, fucking twenty questions?” Mickey was getting frustrated with Ian’s games.  He would rather just get right down to it, no need in wasting time. Ian was clearly interested in Mickey and Mickey was definitely interested in him. Mickey’s gaydar was apparently still working perfectly.

Ian turned around and started to walk back toward the clinic.  Dammit.  Mickey chided himself for letting his smartass mouth ruin whatever this was before it even began.  When was he going to learn to stop being such a dick?  He had to say something to Ian.  He couldn’t just leave it like this. He didn’t get a chance to however, when he heard Ian’s voice and saw that he had turned around and was facing him again.  “Well, see, he’s perfect for you.  He’ll keep you company while you’re at home and protect your house when you’re not.” Mickey’s shoulders slumped in disappointment when he finally realized the whole reason behind all the damn questions.  Well, fuck.  He totally misread that situation. He looked up at Ian in time to see him smile sweetly, giving Mickey goosebumps all over his body. “Good night, Mickey.” Ian walked backwards through the front door of the clinic and with one last lingering look back at Mickey, closed the door quietly behind him.

Mickey was so intent on watching Ian walk back into the clinic, that he didn’t realize that he was grinning like an idiot until Beau broke him out of his sexy vet trance by whining at him. Damn dog. Now he was a cock blocker too? Mickey groaned and opened the backseat and Beau jumped in, wagging his tail the entire time.  It was a painful reminder to Mickey that unfortunately that was the only tail he would be getting any time soon.

But, the smile the vet gave him before he went back in the clinic gave Mickey at least a sliver of hope that maybe he was interested too.  As Mickey started the car, he glanced one last time back at the clinic longingly before driving away and heading home.  Either the sexy vet had been flirting hard with him or just fucking with his mind.  Either way, Mickey was starting to realize that keeping Beau might definitely have its advantages.

Mickey didn’t notice the redhead watching him from the window as he drove away.

_______________________________________________________________________________

“Who was that?” Debbie asked when she noticed her brother gawking out the window at the man who had just left.

“Oh, nobody, little sister, just my future husband.”  Ian turned around in time to see Debbie’s jaw drop.  He chuckled lightly at her reaction. “What?”

“Well, what is your future husband’s name?” Debbie smirked at Ian as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Ian walked breezily past his sister, still feeling light headed from his encounter with their visitor.  Damn, he was sexy as fuck.  And he was a detective, which somehow added to his allure. When Mickey had told him his name and flashed his badge at him, Ian wanted to tackle him to the floor right then and there and fuck him senseless.  He had never had such a visceral reaction to someone he had just met in his entire life.  Sure, he had had his share of boyfriends and fuck buddies, but this was on a whole other level.  Ian found himself trying to memorize every line on his face, every strand of hair on his head, and every movement of his beautiful ass as they walked out to his car. Jesus, Ian needed to get his shit together.  But his brain was a scrambled mess and his cock twitched to life every time he thought about him.

“Mickey Milkovich is his name,” Ian answered as he walked into his office and sat down behind his desk.  Debbie followed him and sat down across from him.

“Milkovich? As in the South Trumball Avenue Milkoviches?” Debbie’s eyebrows rose as she waited expectantly for an answer.

“I don’t know.  Why?” Ian was all of a sudden very confused.

“Um, the Milkoviches are bad news, Ian.  They did runs with their father who was in and out of jail all the time. The Milkovich brothers were in and out of jail themselves.  And it was rumored that their father got the one sister pregnant and she had an abortion.  I think they’re all close in age to us, but they never went to school, so that’s why we never saw them. It’s sad, really.”

“How do you know all this? And how come I never heard about them before?”

“I heard about them from the neighborhood. You always had your nose in a book, Ian. And then you were off busy getting your veterinarian degree at Carnegie Mellon and now you live on the North Side.” Debbie rolled her eyes at him.  He hated when she did that.

“I’m still just as South Side as you are, Debbie.  And hell, you work for me, so you aren’t doing too bad yourself.” Debbie started working as a vet tech for Ian about a year ago when she got pregnant and needed a job.  Now she lives in a nicer neighborhood than they grew up in, and has a nice little apartment for her and her daughter Franny. “And considering how fucked up our lives were growing up, who are we to judge anybody anyway?”

Ian was frustrated as hell right now at his sister.  Who cares how Mickey grew up? He was a detective now. That had to count for something.  He had made something of himself despite all the shit Debbie just mentioned.  That’s the part that Ian was trying to focus on, but dammit if Debbie hadn’t planted that little seed of doubt in his mind.  He didn’t know anything about this man.  Hell, they had just met five minutes ago.  Was he letting his sexual attraction to him cloud his judgment? No, he knew fucked up.  He had been the product of two fucked up parents.  The man that just left his clinic had his shit together. At least he thought he did. _Damn you, Debbie_ , Ian thought to himself.  Talk about a buzz kill.

Debbie put her hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, Ian, I’m just saying….”

“Well, don’t just say,” Ian interrupted angrily. “You don’t know a damn thing about Mickey.  All you know is what you’ve heard from some crackheads from the neighborhood.  Fuck that, Debbie.” Ian pushed back from his desk and rested his chin in his hand in frustrated contemplation. He knew it didn’t make sense, but he felt this irrational need to defend Mickey, even though he had just met him.  He sighed and looked back over at Debbie and noticed the amused smirk on her face. “What?!”  Was she seriously smirking at him right now?

“You really like him, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, no matter what you or ‘the neighborhood’ says,” Ian stated defensively with air quotes to reiterate his point. He was definitely not going to let on that what she had told him about Mickey and his family had gotten under his skin.  He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. What he was going to do was find out more about the intriguing Mickey Milkovich and form his own opinions.  He just hoped they were good ones. 


	3. Chapter Three

       Mickey glanced at the alarm clock on his night stand.  11:43pm. He had one pillow on each ear trying to block out the incessant barking.  Beau was on a leash outside in his front yard, and had been barking nonstop for the past two hours, keeping Mickey and probably half of the neighborhood awake in the process. When he had finally had enough, Mickey grunted loudly and jumped up from the bed, intent on killing him a dog.  He made his way outside to the front yard to see Beau just sitting in the yard calmly, but still barking nonetheless.

            “What? WHAT? What the fuck do you want? I fed you didn’t I?? What else do dogs need? Food and a place to shit and piss.  There, gotcha covered.  So shut the fuck UP!!”

            Mickey walked back in the house, slamming the door behind him, and made his way back to the bedroom, pleased with himself since there was now nothing but silence.  “Told your ass, didn’t I, mutt?” Mickey retorted. Ah, now he could get a good night’s sleep. Finally. 

            About five minutes later, when Mickey had just about dozed off to sleep, the barking started up again. “Goddammit!” Mickey had to do something else.  Either he or a neighbor was going to end up killing that dog.  And this arrangement clearly wasn’t working.  Mickey had a basement that he never used except for storage.  That was the only place he could think of to put the damn dog.  He went outside and grabbed Beau by his leash and stalked angrily back into the house with him.

            “Okay, here are the rules,” Mickey began as they walked through the various rooms of the house. “No slobbering, no barking, no chewing, no lifting your leg on anything in my house, no sniffing of crotches, and none of these rooms belong to you.” Mickey knew he was wasting his breath as Beau just walked along with him, slobbering as usual. Mickey opened the door to the basement and flipped on the light switch.  “THIS is your room.”

            Just as he said that, Beau shook his head vigorously, throwing slobber all over the room. “Well, this is definitely the room to do that in.” Mickey fixed a bed for him out of some old blankets and sheets.  Beau waited patiently for Mickey to finish and then proceeded to plop himself right down in the middle of the pallet.  He panted, his head up and his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth.  If Mickey liked dogs, he might actually find him kind of cute.

Beau then lay down on his side and settled into his makeshift bed, sighing loudly, his stomach rising and falling with the effort. Mickey just shook his head.  “Oh, ok sleepy face. I guess you’re exhausted from all that damn barking, huh?” Beau whined and popped his head back up as Mickey turned to leave.

 “Good night, Beau.” Mickey silently berated himself for talking to the damn dog again.  Why did he keep doing that? Mickey shuffled to the basement door, then turned around and pointed his finger at him. “And no more fucking barking!” Beau just looked up at him innocently, droopy eyes and all. God, he really didn’t fucking like dogs.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

            Mickey stood at the fourth floor window of the precinct, sipping his coffee and staring down at his car with the very large dog in the backseat. There was no way in hell he was leaving Beau at his house by himself yet.  He didn’t want anything in his house while he was at work, he didn’t care how much Ian said he would protect it.  Hmm, Ian.  Mickey hated to admit it, but ever since he met the sexy vet, he had had several very good dreams about red hair and green eyes and large hands, when the damn dog wasn’t barking and interrupting said dreams.  Was it too soon to take Beau back to the vet? Surely he needed something, right? What was he thinking? Why was he thinking of excuses to see Ian again when he would be leaving town in a few weeks? He knows he shouldn’t even go down that road, but he couldn’t get the man out of his head.

            He was so lost in thought he didn’t hear Donald come up behind him. “Well, we didn’t find out anything from the autopsy and ballistics reports that we didn’t already know, except for the type of gun used.”

            Mickey jumped, almost spilling his coffee all over himself.  “Dammit, Phelps, you scared the shit out of me.”

            “Sorry, boss.  Why so jumpy?”

            “Don’t worry about it.” He was definitely not going to tell his replacement that he had just been daydreaming about his dog’s vet.  _The_ dog.  Not his dog. Dammit.  “So what type of gun we talking about?”

            Donald pointed to the papers he just placed on Mickey’s desk. “9mm Ruger American Pistol.”

            Mickey grunted his exasperation.  “Well, that narrows it the fuck down, doesn’t it?” Shit.  They weren’t any closer to answers than they were two days ago.  Just then the police chief, Eugene Martin, marched into the office, eyeing Mickey and Donald as soon as he stepped off the elevator.

Eugene had been police chief for over ten years and was well respected within the department.  He had certainly helped Mickey out many times when he needed it, and he also knew how good Mickey was at his job and told him as much.  When Eugene came to him, Mickey usually had at least part of the case he was currently working on solved, if not solved and closed.  Mickey didn’t know what he was going to tell Eugene about this one. He felt especially ashamed because this was his friend, Max, and he wanted to see his murderer pay for what he had done. He felt an obligation to avenge his friend’s murder. The way the investigation was going at this rate, it wasn’t looking good, but something was bound to come up at some point. It almost always does.  Almost. But Mickey was determined not to let this case go cold.  He had a lot of work to do, and he had to do it fast.

            “Morning, gentlemen,” Eugene bellowed.  “Milkovich.  My office.  _NOW.”_  Eugene continued walking briskly down the hallway toward his office without a second look.

            Shit.  Mickey knew what was coming. Mickey winced internally. Eugene wasn’t much for preamble and always got right to the damn point which never bothered Mickey before, until now. He glanced back at Donald who gave him a sympathetic nod as he retreated.  He followed his boss obediently as he felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Mickey entered Eugene’s office just as he was taking his seat behind his desk. He brought his hands together and rested them on top of the desk. “Henley case.  Where are we at?”

Mickey began hesitantly.  “We are working on it but as of right now, we don’t have any witnesses. We have ballistics report and the autopsy but those didn’t tell us dick.” He put his hands in his pockets to hide the fact that they were shaking a little.  Mickey was usually cool as a cucumber around his boss, but coming to him with nothing to report was not something Mickey was used to doing and he felt extremely uneasy.  He especially felt a humongous amount of shame for the fact that this case involved his friend, and they weren’t anywhere near any closure.  “But we’re working hard.  We are going to find the guy, I promise you that.” Mickey hoped he wasn’t lying.

His boss scoffed. “Working hard? Looks like you guys were just standing around with your thumbs up your asses.  Find me something. If you don’t, I will turn this case over to the sheriff’s department.  I mean, what the hell, Milkovich? You really want your last case with us to go unsolved?”

            Mickey shook his head vehemently.  “No, sir. I will find the fucker that did this. Even if I have to stay on a while longer, I won’t disappoint you, Chief. “  He would do whatever he had to do to find Max’s killer.  He could always find another apartment.  That was the least of his worries right now.

            Eugene leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together behind his head.  “I would hope not, Milkovich.  You have a damn good record with the department.  Don’t fuck it up now.” He hesitated like he was pondering something, then finally spoke again. “That asshole is out there somewhere. Find him.” He leaned up in his chair and grabbed the phone receiver and began to dial.  Mickey wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do until the Chief spoke again. “Get the fuck out of here and get to work, Milkovich .”

Mickey turned on his heels and quickly left his boss’s office. He walked back toward his desk and saw that Donald was on the phone. Mickey sat down heavily in his chair with a frustrated sigh.  And the more he thought about what his boss had said, the more frustrated he got.

Mickey didn’t work like this.  He was used to being able to get answers pretty fast.  Hell, he was good at his job.  He had been good at being a detective from the very beginning.  He had started out on the police force when, during one of Mickey’s many arrests as a kid, an officer saw something in him and gave him a chance for some reason and started mentoring him in police work.  He had made a deal with Mickey that if he would keep his nose clean and pay attention when he tried to teach him something, he would let his latest infraction slip by unnoticed.

            So Mickey did just that, and the police officer, Carlos Lopez, took him under his wing and taught him everything he knew about being a policeman.  Mickey decided that it was a lot better being on the right side of the law for once and he entered the police academy and graduated with honors.  After he became an official police officer, with hard work and determination, it didn’t take him long to move up to detective.  He had been a detective for eight years now, and he loved it. 

            He understood criminals, since he used to be one.  He knew how they thought, what made them tick.  That’s why he was so good at finding the bad guys. Sometimes, to find the criminals, you had to think like they do, and Mickey was an expert at it.  And that’s why this case was so frustrating for him.  Not only was this a close, personal friend of his who had been murdered in cold blood, there were no witnesses to speak of and no leads whatsoever so far.  It drove Mickey fucking crazy.  He couldn’t just sit here and push paper while his friend’s murderer roamed the streets.  He had to do something.

            “Donald, I’m heading out.  I got to go see what I can find out.  I can’t just sit here.”

            “Okay, you need me to go with you?”

            “No, you stay here, see what else you can find out.  Call me if anything new comes up.”

            “Ok, boss,” Donald called after him as Mickey ran to the stairwell, not patient enough to wait for the elevators. Mickey needed to go home.  He needed his desk.  He had a desk in his living room where he sat to mull over cases.  He had solved many seemingly unsolvable cases sitting right there at that desk, papers strewn all about.  It’s where he did his best thinking.  No distractions, no sound.  Except now he had that fucking dog.  Shit. He decided right then and there that as soon as he took Beau back to his place, he was going to get him a bunch of supplies.  Food, toys, anything that would keep him busy and not fucking barking.

            As he ran through the parking lot to his squad car, he stopped in his tracks when he saw the scene in front of him.  Beau had gnawed on the car seats, tearing the cloth to shreds.  There was drool and slobber everywhere and the dog was stretched out lazily in the back seat, chewing on his favorite sunglasses.

            “Stupid dog! Give me my goddamn sunglasses!” Mickey grabbed them from the dog’s mouth tentatively since they were covered in slobber, and proceeded to throw them on the ground, realizing they were past the point of saving.  He got in the car and fastened his seat belt.  “Shows what you know, shithead. This car will be Donald’s in a couple days anyway.”  He laughed at that thought while he sped away toward his house.

            Once Beau was secured in the basement, Mickey headed to the nearest pet store. He asked for help from a clerk since he didn’t know the first thing to buy for a dog.  After more than thirty minutes in the store and two hundred dollars later, he was ready to get the fuck out of there.  He never even spent two hundred dollars at one time on himself, much less on a damn dog. Food, toys, supplies.  He never knew dogs needed so much shit. 

            Mickey walked in his front door with all his bags, and when he looked up, he dropped every one of them and froze where he stood.  His house was absolutely ransacked.  It was an absolute fucking nightmare.  At first he thought he had been robbed, so his first instinct was to pull out his gun from his waistband.  Once he was sure the coast was clear, he laid his gun down and continued investigating the mess. He hesitantly made his way into the kitchen.  There were broken eggs all over the floor, some rice, cereal.  Mickey cringed every time he stepped and heard a crunch.

            The living room wasn’t any better.  Chairs were chewed up and knocked over.  Plants were uprooted and soil was all over his carpet.  His beloved desk had chew marks and slobber all over it.  Oh, that did it.  That fucking dog was dead. 

“What the actual fuck?!” Mickey screamed. He ran through the house looking for the guilty party.  He went to the basement first to find out how he escaped. Apparently he had butted his head against the door until he busted a hole in it and climbed out because there was a huge hole in the middle of the open basement door. He searched for him in every room of the house except his bedroom, but didn’t find him.  He had a bad, sinking feeling about what he was about to discover as he slowly made his way to the bedroom door.  It was cracked open enough for Mickey to see feathers lightly flying through the air. Oh shit.

Mickey opened the door to find Beau grunting and growling on top of his bed, rolling around and chewing on his brand new pillows he had just bought. The sight was enough to make Mickey lose his shit.  “Motherfucker!” He ran to the bed and grabbed a pillow that Beau wasn’t chewing on and proceeded to hit the dog in the head with it.  But all Beau did was latch on to it with his big mouth and tear it to shreds, making more feathers float through the air, landing in various places all over the bedroom.  “That’s it! I’m getting my gun!” Mickey exclaimed.  He ran back to the living room to retrieve it and watched as Beau ran past him and out the front door that was still open from when he came in.  Mickey stepped quickly to the door and grabbed the doorknob.  “And stay out! Do not come back!” Mickey turned to stalk back to the living room as the door slammed loudly behind him.

A couple hours later, Mickey was still fuming and his anger didn’t show any sign of dissipating any time soon.   He needed to be working on solving Max’s murder case, but instead he was cleaning up the disaster that was his house.

As Mickey still worked on cleaning up the mess, he heard faint barking outside that got increasingly louder until it sounded like it was right at his front door.  Oh, hell no.  He knew that bark.  There was no way in hell he was letting that dog back in this house. “No, Beau! You are gone! You are outta here. dammit!”

Right then Mickey asked God to send him hail the size of watermelons.  He didn’t ask for much, did he? The barking continued for the next thirty minutes until Mickey had finally had enough.  He stormed to the front door and swung it open.  “I said no, Beau! Get…..”  Mickey then realized Beau wasn’t alone.  That damn brown and white dog from the vet clinic was standing at the door with him.  They both ran in the house and headed straight for the basement. “I don’t fucking think so, buddy! I don’t even want your ass, so I sure as hell don’t want any fucking puppies!” Mickey yelled as he followed the dogs to the basement.  It was time to make another visit to the South Side Vet. The thought made butterflies flutter in Mickey’s stomach and a smile spread across his face.

________________________________________________________________________________

            Mickey pulled up to the vet clinic a few minutes after six pm, trying to ignore the disappointment he felt in the pit of his stomach when he glanced over and saw the closed sign in the window.  It had taken him much longer than he expected to get both dogs in the car and settled.  Beau chose that particular moment to be stubborn, fighting Mickey the whole time he was trying to get him in the car.  Ian had said that Beau would watch his house for him when he wasn’t there, but so far all he had done was destroy it beyond belief.  Mickey didn’t need this kind of aggravation.  He had too many other things he needed to focus on.  He needed to solve Max’s murder case, that was job one for him.  He was serious about staying on a while longer until the perp was found.  He couldn’t live with himself if he left without finding out who killed his friend.

Once that was done, he was moving.  His house was still on the market and hadn’t sold yet, so all he could afford was a small apartment in California until he could get it sold.  Mickey had taken a trip there a few weeks ago and found a nice but surprisingly cheap apartment complex not too far from the beach.  He made a month by month arrangement with the complex, starting at the beginning of next month, which only gave him a couple weeks to finish up here.  He was glad he didn’t sign a lease considering how the case was going and the uncertainty of when he would be able to move permanently.  But regardless of when it was, he was excited about the prospect of a new life in a new town. 

Which was exactly why he was somewhat relieved that the chance of running into Ian wasn’t possible now that the clinic was closed.  It was probably better that way.  The less Mickey saw of Ian the better.  He wasn’t in the market for a relationship, and he knew that if he spent any significant amount of time with the redhead, he would only want more.  Ever since he had laid eyes on him, Mickey hadn’t been able to get him out of his head.  When he wasn’t dealing with a disobedient and ornery dog, that is.  Mickey felt like a teenager around Ian, all sweaty palms and flushed face.  He wanted nothing more than to get to know the vet better, but he knew that long distance relationships never worked. So it was better just to cut his losses now and settle for Ian just being Beau’s veterinarian, and nothing more.

With a resigned sigh, Mickey stepped out of the car and opened the backseat to let the female dog out.  She jumped down out of the car and ran down the sidewalk and along the walkway to the side of the clinic to enter through the doggie door.  Mickey was so distracted watching her go that he didn’t notice that Beau had jumped out of the car until he felt the pull of his leash on his arm.  “Oh, no you don’t, boy.” Mickey began pulling Beau back to get him back in the car-again-but then he stopped and whispered to himself, “Wait a minute. What am I doing?” He saw this as his chance to let Beau go and be taken care of by people who really knew what the hell they were doing.  He felt a pang of guilt for what he was doing, but he knew it was for Beau’s own good.  “Go on boy, go get her!” Beau looked up at Mickey and for a split second, he thought the dog actually understood him.  Beau took off, barreling down the walkway after his mate.  Mickey followed him to make sure he got in the door safely.   He figured that’s the least he could do. Mickey started jumping up and down cheering to himself, chanting “Yes! Yes!” He made his way back to his car crossing the walkway as he did.  Suddenly, a flashlight shone in his eyes scaring the shit out of him and  causing him to squint and raise his hand to guard against it. 

“What the fuck?” Mickey groused.   Ian Gallagher was standing there, holding the flashlight, wearing a green tank top and a pair of tight black shorts, looking sexy as hell. Mickey bit his lip to hide the small smile that threatened to form. 

A look of relieved recognition passed over Ian’s face and then he smiled wickedly and pointed the flashlight at him again.  “You know anything about plumbing?”

Yeah, Mickey was totally fucked.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey do some major flirting:)

Chapter Four

            “Thank you for bringing Lucy back over.”  Ian was crouched down next to the dog, rubbing her tummy while she panted happily and writhed around underneath Ian’s touch. _Lucky bitch_ , Mickey thought to himself. 

            Mickey shrugged nonchalantly and licked his bottom lip nervously.  “It was no big deal, man.” 

Ian glanced up at Mickey to give him another one of his thousand watt smiles that made heat shoot straight up the back of Mickey’s neck and made it feel like his whole body was on fire and Ian was the only thing in the world that could put it out. His thoughts went so wayward that it took him a minute to realize that Ian was still talking about his dog. “This girl is my pride and joy. I’ve had her for about ten years now.  We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we girl?”  Suddenly, Ian broke out in full on baby talk, cooing at Lucy like she was an actual infant.  What the hell? Mickey couldn’t believe that people actually talked like that to their dogs.  It was the most bizarre thing he had ever seen, but damn if Ian didn’t make it fucking adorable. 

Beau sat off to the side, watching the exchange between Ian and Lucy with uncontrolled jealousy, tongue hanging out and tail wagging.  He stood up and shuffled his legs around excitedly while looking up at Mickey expectantly. “Don’t even think about it, buddy,” Mickey sneered.

Ian laughed boisterously at Mickey’s warning.  “I take it you two haven’t exactly bonded yet, huh?”

“Hell, no,” Mickey complained.  “Motherfucker destroyed my house.  I’m still trying to clean that shit up.”

Ian smiled again at Mickey, but this time his eyes were alight with mischief.  “Oh, so that’s why you were trying to dump him here at the clinic then, huh?”

Fuck. “No, that wasn’t…….I……I didn’t……” Mickey stammered guiltily, knowing full well he was busted.  If Mickey didn’t already know it, Ian’s arched eyebrows and knowing smirk confirmed it.

“Look, man, I’m sorry,” Mickey apologized, thumbing his lip nervously. He did feel like shit for trying to get rid of him, but he honestly believed that Beau would be better off with Ian.  And there was still the little fact, unknown to Ian still of course, that Mickey would be leaving town and there was just no way he could take the dog with him.  He had to figure out something to do with him.

Ian finally gave him a reprieve and looked at him sympathetically. “Mickey, it’s okay,” Ian stated as he continued to rub affectionately on Lucy’s tummy.  “Just give him a chance.  You two will be doing this in no time.” He gestured toward Lucy with his free hand, who was still giddy and reveling in her master’s attention.

Mickey knew he should tell Ian that he would be moving soon, and that’s part of the reason why he couldn’t keep Beau, but since he didn’t know at this point when that would even be happening, he decided there was no need to mention it just yet.  Plus, he selfishly wanted to get to know Ian better and spend what little time he had left here with him and he was afraid that if he told Ian his plans, it might scare him away, which would be the sensible reaction, to be honest.  Who wanted to get involved with someone who would be moving half way across the country in a couple weeks? It wasn’t fair to Ian or himself, Mickey knew, but there was no reason why they couldn’t have some fun without hearts and feelings getting involved.

Mickey didn’t do that anyway because the one guy he had let himself get close to was the one from high school that his dad had beaten to a pulp.  Mickey had still been deep in the closet during that time, but Aaron understood that and didn’t give him shit for it.  He was patient with him, even when Mickey was distant and cold, trying to grapple with his feelings for him and ineffectively pushing him away. Growing up in Mickey’s family had erected walls around Mickey’s heart so high that God himself could not tear them down.  In Mickey’s mind, if his own family didn’t love him, which by their actions never gave him any other indication, how could he ever expect anyone else to?

He did believe that his siblings loved him and he loved them, but more out of family obligation than anything else.  But his dad was another story.  Terry didn’t seem to love any of them and constantly made them feel like they were nothing but inconveniences to him and constant reminders of everything that had gone wrong in his life. At least that’s how he made it seem.

Aaron had been the one person, the only one, that Mickey had opened up to and allowed in.  Mickey truly believed that Aaron loved him and he let himself love Aaron, and it felt so good to finally have that in his life, to have someone who loved him for who he truly was, warts and all.  He could finally stop hiding his vulnerability and drop the bad ass thug façade that he kept firmly in place.   It was the happiest Mickey could ever remember being.  Aaron made him actually feel worthy of his love, like he really did deserve to be loved by someone who wasn’t required to do so. 

Mickey had experienced more love in the little time he and Aaron had been together than he had in his whole life, right up until that fateful day when Terry caught them together.  Even though Terry went to jail for a long time for what he did, after Aaron got out of the hospital, he wouldn’t see or talk to Mickey.  Mickey tried calling him but he had changed his number.  He tried visiting him at his house, but his parents always told him he wasn’t there. 

Aaron’s parents had always been supportive of their relationship, but Mickey figured their son almost dying at the hands of Mickey’s father had made them much less receptive, and he couldn’t blame them.  Maybe that’s why Aaron wouldn’t have anything to do with him.  Mickey wasn’t sure, but all he knew was that he had been absolutely crushed. He was finally free to be who he truly was, free from Terry’s homophobic ass, but now he was a prisoner of his own heart, locking it away so that he would never feel that kind of pain again.

Whatever happiness he had experienced with Aaron, the feeling of utter helplessness and unrelenting heartbreak was just too much to bear and Mickey went on a particularly heinous crime spree.  He just wanted to not feel, and to believe that he had power over at least something, even if it was beating a guy senseless for the very expensive watch he was wearing.

One good thing that did come out of it, however, was that this was the time that he met Carlos, who got him back on track and helped him regain control of his life.  Mickey didn’t know where he would be today without Carlos.  It made Mickey realize that maybe people come into your life for a reason.  Carlos saved his ass from a lifetime in jail, and Aaron showed him, even if it was short lived, that there were people out there who could love him and who he could love without remorse.  Even if Mickey had still not even considered going down that road again with someone. 

Ian was the first man who had even given Mickey the feelings of wanting more.  Mickey barely knew him, but there was something about him so exciting and intriguing, however hard Mickey worked to tamp down those feelings. Mickey’s heart had been locked away for a long time, and he still planned to keep it that way.  But he thought it was a really cruel joke that the universe was playing on him to have him finally find someone who awakened things in him he hadn’t felt in years, when he wouldn’t be here to see what it could have become. But he was also unsure if he would ever be able to open himself up to anyone again, however interested he was in them.   However, his heart may have been locked away, but Mickey’s body was Ian’s for the taking.

            Ian distracted Mickey from his thoughts when he stood and began guiding the dogs ahead of him.  “I’m going to put them in this room over here.” Ian pointed to a room marked “Consultation.”  as he side stepped the dogs, careful not to let them trip him up.  “The sink is back there in Exam Room Four.” Mickey looked toward the back and saw the exam room Ian was talking about and headed in that direction.

            Ian had told Mickey that there was a leak under the sink that had started yesterday.  Mickey knew about as much about plumbing as he did about dogs, but there was no way he was going to let Ian know that.  Hell, he was a detective.  He handled murder scenes and hardened criminals for a living.  He could handle a leaky pipe.  How hard could it be? Thinking about leaky pipes conjured up images in Mickeys’ mind that made him have to readjust himself through his jeans. Shit, he needed to get laid if even leaky pipes did it for him.

            When Mickey made it to the room, he sidled over to the sink where he noticed a toolbox full of pristinely shiny tools that had obviously never been used.  Of course the fancy doctor would have a box of tools just for show.  Hell, truth be known, he probably didn’t even own any and had to go out and buy them for this.  Mickey tried to suppress the silly grin that spread across his face with no luck until he felt Ian’s presence in the doorway.  He wiped his mouth, trying to physically wipe the smile off that lingered there.   He replaced it with a halfhearted scowl. Ian didn’t seem to notice and if he did, he didn’t say anything.

            “I think they like each other,” Ian said as he braced his hands in the doorway.

            Mickey furrowed his brows as he turned to face Ian. “Huh?”

            “Lucy and Beau.” Ian smiled easily as he strode over to where Mickey was standing.

            “Oh yeah,” Mickey muttered as his skin prickled with Ian’s close proximity.  Mickey could practically feel the heat emanating off of Ian’s skin as his eyes bore into him. “That’s just what I need.   A bunch of puppies that are half Bull Mastiff and……and……what kind of dog is Lucy anyway?” Mickey said dismissively,  curious about Ian’s dog that he loved so much, but trying not to let it show. 

            “You ever watch the show _Lassie_?” Ian asked.

            “Um, no.” Mickey furrowed his brow and shook his head, wondering what the hell a TV show had to do with what kind of dog Lucy was.

            Ian continued undeterred. “It was about this long haired Collie named Lassie who belonged to this little boy named Timmy and Timmy was always getting into trouble and Lassie was always saving him.  Lassie was what first made me fall in love with animals.”

            How does this man make everything that is supposed to be unbearably lame seem so damn cute?

            Ian continued talking as Mickey listened intently, enthralled but trying not to show it. “I had always wanted a Collie after watching that show and when I found Lucy at a shelter, I knew it was love at first sight.” As if reading Mickey’s thoughts, Ian said, “I guess that sounds pretty lame, huh?”

            Mickey debated internally whether he should give him shit about what he’d just confided in him or to tell him the truth, which was that it was fucking adorable.  No, Mickey didn’t want to be that guy.  So he opted for the partial truth. “No, it’s not.  I think it’s……..cute.” Damn, one sexy guy and he goes all soft.

            But seeing Ian’s resulting grin made the worry over his macho status not seem so important. Ian then gently laid his hand on Mickey’s shoulder and Mickey practically gasped at the contact when the heat from his hand practically burned a hole through Mickey’s t-shirt. His green eyes sparkled as he looked straight into Mickey’s blues. “Really?”

            Mickey’s eyes fell inadvertently to Ian’s full, red lips but quickly darted them away, instead focusing on a poster on the wall advertising for some kind of flea medicine.  He made a mental note to get some of that medicine for Beau, then quickly chided himself for thinking that when he was here with a sexy vet who was half dressed in a tank top and tight shorts, and smiling brightly at him like he had discovered the cure for cancer or something.  Was he seriously thinking about his dog? Mickey was officially losing it.  It was probably best if he got back to the main reason he was here in the first place.  “Yeah,” Mickey responded. “Well, I better get to work.”

            Ian removed his hand from Mickey’s shoulder and stepped back allowing him room to work.  Mickey immediately felt cold from the loss. “Yeah, okay,” Ian said shyly. “You need any help? Don’t know how much help I’d actually be, but…..” He put his hands up at his sides, shrugged his shoulders, and tilted his head in a what-do-I-know gesture. 

            “Yeah, you can help,” Mickey agreed a little too quickly and kicked himself internally. But he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as he knelt down and crawled up under the sink.

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            “You are out of your mind.  Segal could totally kick Van Damme’s ass.  Have you seen that ponytail? That’s a powerful ponytail, man, that’s bullshit.”

            “Unless, unless it’s Double Impact Van Damme.  Now that’s some Van double Damme!” They both giggled and Ian’s eyes focused intently on Mickey’s stomach muscles as they moved under his black t-shirt.  Ian was also glad that Mickey couldn’t see his smile that was so wide now he thought his face would practically crack in two. Mickey was half way under the sink tinkering away and all that was exposed was his lower stomach and legs.  Ian wasn’t going to admit how many times his gaze had traveled over Mickey’s crotch.  Mickey would surely think he was a pervert, but he just couldn’t help it.  The man was sexy as hell, and didn’t seem to know it, which made him even that much sexier.

            They had settled into comfortable conversations, talking about a whole lot of nothing such as favorite movies, favorite bands, and the like.  Apparently, Mickey’s favorite movie star was Steven Segal.  Ian couldn’t remember the last time he’d had more fun. Talking to Mickey was so easy.  Ian could be himself.  He didn’t have to worry about being veterinarian Ian with the fancy college degree.  He could be South Side trash Ian, which resided in his blood no matter how many pieces of paper he earned.  He worked hard to distance himself from that part of his life every day, constantly trying to prove that he wasn’t that kid anymore and had truly made a name for himself.  He was doing what he loved and earning a damn good living doing it.  That’s the American Dream right? Well, he was living it.  But no matter how much success he had achieved, it all still seemed hollow since he didn’t have someone to share it with.  It was great, yeah, but, sometimes it got lonely going home to an empty apartment.  Being raised in the Gallagher household which was a nonstop turnstyle of chaos and unpredictability, made the life he lived now seem that much more empty. 

            It had never occurred to Ian how much that had affected him until he met Mickey.  Ever since he had met the detective, he began longing for more.  His carefully regimented life of exercise, work, and home seemed mundane now whenever he thought of Mickey.  Mickey was exciting.  His life seemed so exciting, being a detective.  It was dangerous and risky and sexy as fuck. 

            Ian hated the fact that Debbie’s words of warning about the Milkoviches were still knocking around inside his head.  Granted Ian didn’t know much about Mickey at all, but he seemed to be doing good for himself.  But Ian knew that, like him, Mickey still had the South Side blood running through his veins and if he was a criminal growing up and had lived that life, did he ever truly escape it? What if he was working with criminals now as a detective? Ian knew how that shit worked, even if he wasn’t actively involved in it growing up.  He also hated himself for thinking those things about him.  He made a mental decision to push those thoughts to the back of his head until Mickey gave him any reason to doubt him.  Mickey deserved that much.  Hell, Ian knew what it was like to have people constantly doubt you and he was almost positive Mickey had gone through the same thing.  He owed Mickey at least the benefit of the doubt.

“Hand me that pipe wrench, will ya?” Mickey’s words broke Ian out of his reverie.  He was suddenly thanking his lucky stars that he had paid attention when his older brother, Lip, worked on their plumbing when they were growing up since they couldn’t ever afford an actual plumber.  He actually knew the tool that Mickey was asking for. He grabbed it and handed it over.

            When Mickey reached for the tool, Ian noticed tattoos on his knuckles, but he couldn’t make out what they said. “Hey, what do your knuckle tats say?”

            Mickey instinctively turned his hands over so he could look at his fingers, then showed them to Ian.  

            “FUCK-U-UP,” Ian stated slowly as if he was testing how the phrase sounded on his lips.  Mickey thought it was about the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. “That’s badass, man.”

            Mickey went back to work with the wrench Ian gave him.  “Naw, man, that’s just some stupid shit I got trying to be a bad ass South Side thug and all. No big deal.”

            “I still can’t believe we never ran into each other,” Ian stated.

            All of a sudden, the noise Mickey had been making under the sink stopped and Ian saw his whole body stiffen.  Then he slid out from under the sink and looked Ian square in the eye. “You’re South Side?”

            “Through and through, man.”

            “Bullshit!”

            “I am!” Ian retorted defensively. “I grew up on North Wallace.”

            “Well, I’ll be damned.” Mickey let out a sigh that almost sounded relieved.  “I could’ve sworn you were one of those North Side rich asses with the fancy penthouse apartment and Mercedes Benz.”

            “Well, shows what you know, smartass.” Ian crossed his arms over his chest defensively and watched as a look of regret passed over Mickey’s face.

            “Hey, man, I’m sorry” Mickey relented.

            “I drive a BMW,” Ian quipped.

            Mickey just looked at him with a smirk. “You’re a fucking dick.”

He then let out one of those deep guttural laughs that went all the way to Ian’s cock. Holy fuck.

Mickey went back under the sink and had been working for a few minutes, both of them silent as they ruminated about what they had just learned about each other.  At least Mickey knew now that they weren’t as different as he had thought they were.

“Shit! Fuck!” Mickey began yelling and at the same time, Ian heard the inevitable sound of water spraying and he winced, knowing all too well what happened. Mickey was scrambling to get out from under the sink but not before he turned the shut off valve and avoided a potential flood. 

            When Mickey finally stood up, Ian’s eyes went straight to the wet hair and t-shirt.  Luckily, or unluckily, depended who you asked, his jeans didn’t end up getting wet. “Damn, I’m sorry, man. Let me go get you a towel and a dry shirt.  I have one in my locker in my office.”

            Mickey shook his hair out and Ian just about combusted right then and there. “Thanks, man.”

            After a couple minutes, Ian came back with the towel and shirt.  When he entered the exam room again, his mouth fell open and his knees went instantly weak when he took in the sight in front of him.  Mickey was standing there with no shirt and a gold chain around his neck that was clinging to his wet skin.  How did he never notice that chain before? He must have had it inside his shirt. Jesus Christ, all Ian wanted to do was lick up the droplets of water running down his chest. 

            Ian finally got his wits about him and brought the items to Mickey.  “Thanks,” Mickey said as he grabbed them.

            Ian tried not to stare, but Mickey was making it damn hard.  Yep, he sure was. Ian had to turn away from him and act like he was inspecting something behind him so he could get his dick under control.  Ian had never had this shit happen to him before.  Even with the best looking guy, and he had been with plenty, he had never been this out of control of his functions.  Mickey just did things to him that Ian had never experienced before.  God, what was wrong with him? It was like he was a teenager all over again. He remembered having a crush on his geometry teacher, Mr. Webster, and having to excuse himself from class sometimes when his body betrayed him. 

            “What are you doing?” Mickey asked.

            Ian turned around at the sound of Mickey’s voice. “Oh, uh, just checking the instruments under the chest, uh, cabinet, to make sure they’re hard, um, sterile, I mean.” Goddammit Ian was so embarrassed. He was sure his cheeks were as red as his hair.

            Mickey gave him a pointed look and smiled mischievously at him, obviously knowing that he was having an effect on Ian and obviously enjoying the hell out of it.  “You okay?”

            “Yep, I’m good.” Ian took a second to make sure he wasn’t lying and shuffled back to Mickey.  “Are you okay? You’re the one that’s all wet.” Okay, he had his game face back on.

            Mickey had dried off and had Ian’s shirt on by now.  Ian breathed a sigh of relief that at least he could form a coherent sentence now since Mickey was no longer standing in front of him half naked. 

            “That shirt looks a lot better on you than it does on me,” Ian said seductively as he stepped closer to Mickey and let his eyes wander down his body and back up again.

            Ian noticed Mickey physically gulp and his eyes widen.  This time Ian was the one who grinned lasciviously when he realized the effect he was having on Mickey.  Two could play at this game.

            Mickey stammered nervously and said, “Um, you look good too.  I mean, I’m sure you look hot, I mean, good, in this shirt too.” Mickey let out a shaky sigh and Ian couldn’t help his satisfied smirk.  Without warning, Ian snaked his arm around Mickey’s waist and pushed his hand into the back pocket of his jeans. God his ass felt good. “Uh, whatcha doing there, Ian?” Mickey’s breath fanned against Ian’s ear as he was reaching around and almost threw Ian off, but he quickly regained his composure and came back up with Mickey’s cell phone in his hand. He showed it to Mickey in silent explanation.  The fact that he got to feel Mickey’s plump ass cheek against his hand was just an added bonus.

            “Well, since you are going to have Beau and you know nothing about dogs, you are going to need a a professional’s expertise, right?” Ian asked, not looking at Mickey.  Instead he was focused on his cell phone screen and began typing his number into Mickey’s phone.  When he was finished, he handed the phone back to Mickey.  “So now you have it.”

            Mickey just looked at the phone, not moving to retrieve it.  “Okay, fair enough.  But with all your expertise about dogs and all your fancy degrees, it seems that you have forgotten one of most basic rules about manners.”

            Ian eyed Mickey, interested in where he was going with this. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

            “When you take something without permission that doesn’t belong to you, you are supposed to put it back where you found it.  Correct?”

            Ian’s eyes lit up when he realized what Mickey was implying, but then he remembered himself and quickly suppressed the smile that was sneaking up on his lips. “That’s correct.”

            Mickey didn’t say anything else, just raised his arms to give Ian access this time. Ian reached around yet again and placed the phone back into his back pocket, this time giving Mickey’s ass a little squeeze before returning to his upright position.  Mickey jumped slightly but then acted like nothing had happened.  Both of them were enjoying this game tremendously, but neither one of them could deny the heat between them.  It was practically burning them both up in its intensity.

            Ian felt a stab of disappointment when he realized that Mickey had turned around and was putting all of the tools back in the box and gathering his stuff, getting ready to leave. Ian really didn’t want Mickey to leave.  The way Mickey was moving around almost hesitantly made it seem like he wasn’t in too much of a hurry to leave either. Should Ian say something? He didn’t know what to do. 

            Before Ian could deliberate any more, Mickey turned back toward Ian with a crooked smile that made Ian’s heart flutter in his chest.  “So what time do you want me to come over and finish this tomorrow?”

 

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            Mickey couldn’t remember a time when he felt more conflicted about a situation.  Ian was the most exciting, most interesting man Mickey had met in a long time.  Why did he have to meet Ian now, when everything was so fucked up?  Mickey was worried about Max’s case and finding the person who murdered him.  He wasn’t any closer to answers now than he was right after it happened.  And then there was the small issue of him leaving and moving to the Pacific coast. He had been planning this move for the last year and it was important to him to leave all the things behind that he hated about this place-the crime, his shitty childhood, and his reputation as “one of those bad Milkoviches.” Fuck that.  He wanted a fresh start, a new life not tainted by his past and he couldn’t have that if he got mixed up with somebody now, especially not somebody from the very same neighborhood he was trying to escape.  No matter how incredible he was.

Ian conjured up feelings in him that he had never felt in his entire life.  He had loved Aaron very much, which was why he had never gotten involved in a relationship since then.  He couldn’t put himself through that kind of emotional turmoil ever again.  But Ian was the first man since Aaron to make him remember all the good things about a relationship that he had loved.  The intimacy, feeling safe and loved, having someone to talk to and share your deepest fears with.  And Mickey had had plenty back then.  Aaron had been the only one he had ever confided in about how fearful he was of his asshole father.  He put up a brave front in front of his siblings.  He was in charge of taking care of them after all.  He couldn’t be a weak bitch in front of them.  They depended on him too much.  

            Luckily, his brothers and sister weren’t home the day his dad came home and found Mickey and Aaron in bed together.  When Mickey came home hours later after taking Aaron to the hospital, he had told them that he got his beaten and battered face from a fight he had with a man who had bought coke from him but didn’t want to pay up.  He never told them about what happened with Terry, and when Aaron didn’t come around anymore, he just figured his siblings assumed they had just broken up, which essentially they did.  And Mickey had suffered in silence. But just like every other thing that happened in their family, there was no communication, no discussion.  It just was. His siblings had figured out about Mickey and Aaron long before Terry did, but they never even gave a shit, to Mickey’s relief.

And who says Ian would even want to be with someone with all his baggage? Even though he wasn’t that boy anymore, it was still a part of his fucked up past. Mickey liked who he was now, who he had become.  It had taken him a long time to get to this point, with a lot of soul searching and self-actualization.  Even though Ian didn’t know anything about that part of his life and Mickey had no plans to tell him, Ian was acutely aware of what it took to survive in the South Side, what life was like there.  And it was never pretty, even though some families had it better than others.  Mickey didn’t know anything about Ian’s family, but he couldn’t imagine it got much worse than growing up in the Milkovich household.

Although Mickey had always considered it an advantage when he met people who were from the South Side, people who had that same fight in them, the same survival instincts, this was the one time he wished that weren’t the case.  Mickey didn’t want to have to constantly defend himself, he was done doing that shit, which was one of the reasons he was getting out of this town. He didn’t have to prove anything to anyone anymore.  And he was convinced that was what he would always be doing with Ian, trying to prove that he wasn’t that same South Side trash he had been all those years ago.

But even though Mickey had all these fears and doubts about getting involved with Ian, he couldn’t deny that there was something special between them.  He had felt it that first night they met.  Granted a lot of the feeling happened below his belt, but there was something so magnetic about the redhead.  Something that drew Mickey in and made him want to sell his soul to the devil just for the chance to see one of those dazzling Ian Gallagher smiles again. And last night, when they were standing so close Mickey could feel Ian’s hot breath on his face, he just knew he was going to melt into a puddle right at the veterinarian’s feet.  The sexual tension between them was hot as the fires of hell and Mickey wanted nothing more than to get burned up by it. What happened last night excited Mickey so much that he went home and jacked off at least three times, hell he had lost count.  But whatever was going on between them, Mickey wanted more.

And that was exactly why, against his better judgment, Mickey was sitting in his car outside the South Side Vet, with Beau sitting up and proudly panting in the passenger seat beside him, slobbering away. Ian had texted Mickey and told him to come by the clinic around six pm to finish fixing the plumbing leak.  The day had dragged on so slow, Mickey thought he would crawl out of his skin before six o’clock came.  Even being busy at work hadn’t lessened the excitement of seeing Ian that evening.  Donald had made some smart ass remark about Mickey’s good mood but he told Donald to fuck off and that’s exactly what he did, to Mickey’s delight.  The time moved so slow, but finally, fucking finally, it was time to go, and now here they were.

“Boy, you look like you swallowed a tennis shoe and the fucking shoe strings are hanging out of your mouth.” Beau effectively ignored Mickey’s snide remark and turned to look out the window at the clinic.  The dog knew exactly where they were. “Who you looking for, boy? Lucy?” At the mention of his girlfriend’s name, Beau’s ears perked up and he started barking incessantly.  Mickey petted Beau’s head to quiet him down, which he found usually worked. Except not this time. “Alright, alright, let’s go.” Mickey leaned in to Beau’s ear and whispered, “Let’s see if we can both get laid.”

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            Ian opened the door to the clinic looking like he was fresh from a shower, his hair damp and his skin glistening.  Mickey darted his tongue out to lick his lips.  His lips and his mouth were all of a sudden very dry as he took in the view before him.  Ian had on a black t-shirt and gray sweats.  _Oh Jesus kill me now_ , Mickey thought.

            “Hey, man,” Mickey said shyly.  Beau shook excitedly beside him and he had to hold his leash just to keep him from darting into the clinic in search of Lucy.

            “Hey yourself,” Ian replied and rewarded Mickey with one of those dazzling smiles. “Come on in.” Mickey led Beau in and made his way inside as Ian shut the door behind him. “I really appreciate you coming back over to fix the sink.” Ian breezed past him and Mickey could smell the fresh body wash on his skin.  It smelled expensive and incredible. 

            “It’s no problem, man.  I’m happy to do it.” If only Ian knew just how happy. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

            “Not at all.  I just took a shower because I had cat piss all over me. Damn cat got me good. Can you still smell it on me? I was hoping I got rid of the smell. It is the most awful smell in the world.  Aside from maybe my father after a really long bender.” Ian chuckled and Mickey couldn’t help but join him.  

            Mickey shook his head.  “No, you smell amazing.  Shit, I mean, no, you don’t smell like cat piss.” Mickey’s cheeks flushed and he looked down at his feet, monumentally embarrassed for not able to keep his cool around the sexy vet. For some reason, Ian made him turn into an absolute bumbling idiot.

            While still hanging his head in embarrassment, Mickey noticed a pair of Nikes line up with the toes of his boots and glanced up to find Ian’s face inches away from his, almost bumping his nose with Ian’s.  The wet tendrils of red hair dripped onto Mickey’s arm as Ian moved his plump mouth slowly to Mickey’s ear. He could almost feel the moisture sizzle from the heat of his burning skin as a result of Ian’s proximity. He could hear Ian’s slow intake of breath through his nose, like he was savoring something.  “You smell amazing, too,” Ian whispered seductively.

            Goddamn, that voice went straight to Mickey’s dick and he was instantly hard as a fucking rock.  Mickey’s eyes fluttered closed as his heart beat wildly in his chest and he released a shaky breath.  Mickey wanted Ian so bad he could hardly stand it.  He had never been shy or intimidated around men.   He knew what he wanted and how to get it.  He always had one goal in mind, to get his rocks off.  But with Ian, it was different.  He wanted to know him. And not just the size of his dick, but judging by what he had noticed so far, he wasn’t lacking in that department by any means. The fact that Ian made Mickey want those things scared him to death for a lot of reasons, which contributed to the nervousness and uncertainty he felt around Ian. It was throwing him off, but in the most incredible way.

            The sexual spell was effectively broken when Ian lifted his head back up to look into Mickey’s eyes and  asked, “So, you want me to take Beau to see Lucy and you can go ahead and get started on the sink?”

            _No, I want to throw you down on the floor of this lobby and ride your cock until we both come like freight trains._

            “Sure, that sounds fine.” He handed Beau’s leash to Ian, their hands brushing for a second and causing sparks to shoot up Mickey’s spine.  While doing that, Mickey was able to see the hard on Ian was sporting as well.  Damn, he was definitely packing.  Mickey was excited about that and about the fact that Ian was just as affected by Mickey as Mickey was by him.

            Mickey made his way to the room in the back taking advantage of the opportunity to get his breathing and his dick under control. A couple minutes later, Ian was back and they resumed their positions from the previous night with Mickey lying under the sink and Ian handing tools to him.  And they fell into what almost seemed like a routine already even though it had only been the second time they had spent any real time together.  But it felt like they had known each other for years.  Mickey had always wondered what the fuck people meant when they said that, but now he finally knew.

            Mickey found out that Ian had a worthless piece of shit for a father, too.  Huh, something else they had in common.  He had an older sister who basically raised him and his siblings, an older brother who was extremely smart in books but stupid in life, a younger sister who worked for him and had a little girl and another younger brother who went to private school that Ian paid for. His mom disappeared when Ian was young and hadn’t been seen since.  _Another_ thing they had in common.

            They talked about life and past relationships, however, Mickey didn’t mention anything about Aaron or Terry.  He wanted to know more about Ian and he wanted Ian to know about him, but that was one part of his past that he was not willing to divulge. Ian told Mickey some of the things his family had to do to survive life in the South Side, and the things he was saying sounded painfully familiar. Mickey told some of his own war stories and tales of woe as well.

 Surprisingly, it didn’t make Mickey feel like he thought it would.  He found that telling Ian these things and hearing some of the things Ian had endured brought them that much closer.  It was like a weight Mickey had been carrying for years had been lifted off of him and he could finally breathe.

            Mickey wasn’t quite sure what was happening.  All he knew was that it felt good. Ian had a way of making him feel like everything he had been through had made him who he was and he should embrace that, not try to forget it or run from it. Ian made that point glaringly obvious when he brought up his own success and what he had endured to get where he was and to become the man he had. He even told Mickey that being from the South Side had taught them about tenacity, ingenuity, and working your ass off for what you wanted and that they were both lucky to have been born there.  He also told Mickey that even though they were born there, that doesn’t mean they have to end up there.

            Mickey had thought that Ian was amazing before, but after their conversation and the way he made Mickey feel, he realized just how hard he was falling for the redhead.  It was exciting and scary as hell all at the same time.  After only two days? It didn’t make sense to Mickey at all which was why he trusted it.  Nothing in his life ever made sense, so this was just another thing to add to the list.  But this one definitely belonged at the top of that list.

            After what seemed like only minutes but actually ending up being several hours, Mickey was finally done with the sink and it was officially fixed. While Mickey was putting the tools back in the tool box, he felt before he saw Ian standing right behind him.  He stood slowly as Ian inched impossibly closer to him, so close that Mickey could feel his breath fanning the hairs on the back of his neck.  Ian gripped Mickey’s arms and turned him around to face him. With his arms still in Ian’s grasp, he said, “You’re really hot.”

            Mickey smiled stupidly and thanked the vet for the compliment. “Thanks.  You are too.”

            “No” he clarified, “I mean, you are, but I meant that your skin is hot, are you feeling okay?” Ian placed his palm flat against Mickey’s forehead.

            “Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” Mickey was so fucking pissed at his body for betraying him this way. Mickey loved the effect that Ian was having on him, but that didn’t mean he wanted it to be so damn obvious.

            Satisfied with Mickey’s reassurance, Ian dropped his hands from Mickey’s arms. Mickey missed his touch immediately.  “How much do I owe you?”

            Mickey scoffed. “Owe me? For what?”

            “For the plumbing, Mick.  I don’t work for free, so I don’t expect you to either.”

            Mickey was so enamored with the nickname Ian gave him and the sound of it on his lips that for a minute he forgot what they were talking about until he noticed Ian’s expectant look. “Man, you don’t owe me shit.”

            Mickey couldn’t help the escaped gasp when Ian moved in closer again.  He laced his fingers with Mickey’s and it felt so damn good.  Ian’s hands were so soft and warm, and fit Mickey’s perfectly.  He couldn’t help but wonder in what other ways they would fit together. Ian pulled Mickey even closer still when he brought their joined hands around behind his back, effectively pulling their faces within inches of each other. “But I really want to repay you somehow. I have a bedroom upstairs.  I’d like to repay you all night long.”  Mickey couldn’t do anything but gulp.  His breaths came out in short bursts as his eyes locked with Ian’s green ones.  Mickey knew he could get lost in those eyes and never want to be found again.  A second later, Ian’s eyes were closed and he was leaning in to press his lips to Mickey’s, squeezing his hands tight. Mickey lifted his head to meet him and their lips were about to brush when a pounding fist on the front door of the clinic made them jump apart.

            _“Dr. Gallagher! Dr. Gallagher! Please help! Trixie got in a fight with that damn Rocco again and she’s hurt real bad!”_ _BANG! BANG! BANG!_

“Goddammit, I’m gonna kill that damn Trixie myself,” Ian whispered angrily as he adjusted his shirt and his crotch while throwing on his lab coat that was hanging on a nearby coat rack.  “I’m sorry, Mick.  I’ll text you, okay?” Ian bellowed as he scrambled out of the room and rushed to the front door.  He heard him talking to the man who had interrupted them, who sounded almost inconsolable as he cried over his dog. Yet another thing that Mickey finally understood. A man and his dog. 

            As he headed across the clinic to grab Beau and head out, he heard Ian trying to console the distraught client.

  _“It’s okay, Mr. Shanks, I’m going to take care of Trixie and fix her right up.  She’ll be back home chasing the mail man in no time. Hey speaking of, is Harry still delivering down on Wallace?”_

The crying man sniffed a couple times and finally calmed enough to answer him. _“Uh, yeah, said he’s only got a couple more years before he can retire.”_ Damn, Gallagher was good.  He never thought about that but he not only had to take care of the client’s pet, he had to take care of the client too.  And Ian was doing a hell of a job of calming his nerves.

Mickey remembered the man they were talking about, Harry the mailman.  He and his brothers used to tease him mercilessly when he would wear those blue uniform shorts.  He had the hairiest legs they had ever seen. They would call him “Hairy Harry, the fucking Fairy” because he was as gay as the day was long and didn’t care who knew it.  His brothers made countless gay jokes about packages and overnight “male” and most of the time Mickey joined in right along with them, but in reality, Mickey was jealous of Harry.  He was so out and proud, something that Mickey would never be able to be, or so he thought at the time.  He spit out the gay slurs right along with his brothers, but he secretly admired Harry and hoped one day he could be free like that. Thankfully, that day came when the judge slammed down her gavel at Terry, and Mickey never looked back.

            Mickey found Beau and Lucy snuggling together and called Beau to him as he fetched his leash that was hanging on the doorknob. Beau whined sadly and looked back at Lucy who was perched on her back haunches watching the two of them leave.  Beau hesitated to leave until Mickey gave his leash a firm tug.  “Come on, boy. Believe me, I understand.”

            Mickey crossed the clinic to the other side with Beau obediently beside him. He wanted to at least speak to Ian before he left.  As he approached the doorway, he caught part of the conversation.

            _“Alright, Mr. Shanks, now that we’ve got the bleeding stopped, I’m going to stitch up this wound, and little Trixie here will be good as new, won’t you sweet girl?”_

A much more calm Mr. Shanks answered him, his voice thick with gratitude _. “Thank you so much, Dr. Gallagher.  I can’t thank you enough, really.”_

_“Hey, that’s what I’m here for, right?”_

Mr. Shanks just smiled and watched Ian continue to work.

Could he be any more fucking adorable? Mickey coughed subtly to get Ian’s attention.  Both men’s heads turned at the noise. Mickey gave Ian a little wave goodbye as Mr. Shanks just stared at him dumbfounded, obviously not realizing there was anybody else there.  Ian had his hands full stitching but without missing a beat, he smiled, mouthed ‘Sorry’ to Mickey and winked at him. 

            Yeah, he really could be even more fucking adorable.

           


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey has a possible break in Max's murder investigation.

Chapter 5

            Mickey had his head down, faced scrunched in concentration as he studied Max’s case file, looking futilely for the smoking gun that would tie someone to his murder but coming up frustratingly empty once again.  He had his thumb and middle finger at his temples, trying to rub out the headache that was threatening to form.  “Fuck!”            

            Beau lifted his head at Mickey’s outburst, looking up at him from his position lying beside Mickey’s desk.  “Don’t look at me like that,” Mickey scolded him.  Beau obediently put his head back down but snorted at him as if he resented being told what to do.  Mickey had come to realize in the short time he’d known Beau that the dog was too smart for his own damn good.  It’s like he knew what Mickey was feeling, what he was thinking.   It was the most uncanny thing Mickey had ever seen.

Mickey wouldn’t ever admit this to a living soul, but he actually looked up on the internet about dogs and discovered a lot of things that he had never known about them.  Big surprise-dogs don’t like to be left alone.  When their owners leave, they get very nervous and upset and may chew things or make a mess in the house to show their frustration.  Yeah, no shit. Mickey was still pissed about the current state of his house.  He had repaired everything that could be salvaged, but there was still a lot of damage.      

            Which is why Beau was there in his office, tied by his leash to one of the legs of Mickey’s desk. His house and the car were off limits.  He had done more than enough damage already and there was no way in hell he was going to give him any more chances to tear any other shit up.

            The elevator dinged and Donald walked out, heading toward his desk.  Donald had been flying solo on another case while Mickey stayed behind to try to piece together a lead on Max’s case.  “Hey, Mickey, how’s it going?” Before Mickey could answer, Beau jumped up and began barking loudly at Donald as he walked by.  “Goddammit! Son of a bitch!” Donald stumbled backward with his hand to his chest like he was having a heart attack.  Mickey had to cover his mouth to hide his laughing as he petted Beau’s head to calm him down. “What the fuck is he doing here, man? Martin is going to have your ass for bringing that beast in here!”

            “Please, Martin don’t give a shit.” At least Mickey hoped he didn’t. “And if you saw my damn house, you wouldn’t have to ask that fucking question,” Mickey answered.

            “Oh shit, really?” Mickey nodded as Donald  sat down slowly and leaned back in his chair, watching Beau apprehensively as the dog settled back down beside Mickey again, satisfied that Donald didn’t pose a threat to his new owner. “Way to go, Beau,” Donald teasingly whispered.

            Mickey snorted derisively.  “Go ahead, Phelps, keep running your damn mouth and I’ll untie him and let him take care of your ass,” Mickey warned.

            The fear in Donald’s eyes was apparent as he put up his hands in surrender.  “Please don’t do that.  I’m awful attached to my fucking limbs and I’d like to keep them.”

            Mickey smirked at him. “Oh, that’s not a problem.”

“Good.”

“I’ve trained him to go straight for the balls.” Donald’s eyes just about popped out of his head as Mickey broke down laughing.  The guy was just too fun to fuck with. “So how did your outing go?”

_______________________________________________________________________________

A couple hours later, Mickey and Donald were elbow deep in Max’s case, and Beau was now sitting at the big window by Mickey’s desk, seemingly watching the swarm of people on the streets below. Mickey’s phone buzzed as a text came through.

_Ian (10:24am): Hey sorry about last night_

Mickey couldn’t help the easy smile that spread across his face.

_Mickey (10:25am) NP. How’s Trixie?_

_Ian (10:26am) She’ll be back to ankle biting in no time.  Whatcha doing?_

_Mickey (10:27am) Working on my friend’s case_

_Ian (10:28am) How’s that going by the way?_

_Mickey (10:29am) Could be better.  How’s your day going?_

_Ian (10:31am) I stuck my finger up a turtle’s ass, so there’s that_

_Mickey (10:33am) WTF? Why??_

_Ian (10:35am) He wouldn’t come out of his shell_

_Mickey (10:38am) Did it work?_

_Ian (10:40am) Like a charm.  I’m very good with my fingers_

Jesus, even this was turning Mickey on.  Goddammit what was wrong with him? He thought about it for a second and he just couldn’t help himself.

  _Mickey (10:44am) I might need help coming out of my shell later._

_Ian (10:50am) Oh really? I still need to repay you, don’t I?_

  _Mickey (10:52am) Oh yeah_

_Ian (10:55am) So do you want to get off when you come over?_

Well…..damn. Mickey was picking his jaw up off the floor and lowering his eyebrows out of his hairline when yet another text came through.

            _Ian (10:57am) OMG I meant do you want to come over when you get off.  Fuck I’m an asshat. Sorry._

_Mickey (10:58am) I kinda liked it the other way_ _:)_

He couldn’t believe that he, Mickey Milkovich, bad ass detective with the Chicago Police Department, just sent a smile emoji thing or whatever in the hell you called it. Since Ian had come along though, it seemed like he’d been doing a lot more of smiling lately. And laughing. He couldn’t remember anybody who made him laugh like Ian did. He felt a jolt in his stomach and warmth spreading over his skin. It felt really good.  Ian just made him feel so fucking good. All too soon he had to let the smile fall fastidiously from his face when he noticed Donald coming back from his third coffee break that morning. He sent a quick reply.

            _Mickey (11:01am) Sure_

_Ian (11:01am) Great. Talk to ya later_

_Mickey (11:02am) K_

            “Who’s Ian?” Donald was now standing over him and had obviously saw his phone screen before he could clear it, judging by the stupid ass grin plastered on his face.  Fuck.

            Everyone in the office knew Mickey was gay.  It’s not like it was a big secret.  But Mickey’s trysts always occurred usually with some faceless stranger he met at a bar and either fucked in an alley or took home and fucked, then threw them out the next morning, sometimes that same night, depending on his mood. He had certainly never texted with any of the guys he had been with and definitely not during business hours. This was new territory for Mickey and he didn’t feel prepared for answering questions about his personal life, especially since he didn’t really have any answers just yet.

            “Mind your own fucking business, asshole, that’s who it is,” Mickey scolded. “Before I sic my dog on you.”

            As if on cue, Beau, still at the window, started scratching wildly at it, barking and whining pitifully.

            “Beau, get down!” Mickey yelled.

            “Man, what the fuck’s up with your dog?” Donald backed up slowly toward his desk and sat down carefully, watching Beau with trepidation the entire time.

            Mickey had no damn idea.  But Beau wasn’t letting up.  If anything, he was getting even more worked up, to the point he was scratching the window up and getting slobber all over it. Mickey got up from his desk chair to see what all the fuss was about.  “What is it, boy?” As soon as Mickey made his way over to the window, Beau jumped down and took off running.  Mickey gasped as he watched him, afraid he was going to choke himself on the leash. But that’s not what happened.

            Beau ran with such unrelenting and powerful force that the thick leather leash broke like a twig from the desk leg.  Just as Beau made it to the stairwell, someone opened the door and Beau ran through it. “Goddamnit, come on Phelps!” Mickey called. Donald just sat there in stunned silence, watching Beau and not realizing that Mickey was yelling at him until he heard, “Move your ass!”

            Both men ran down the stairwell and out the front door of the precinct in search of the dog. When they got outside, the heat stopped them in their tracks.  It was stifling.  It was the middle of August and it was a typical sweltering Chicago summer day.  Both men searched frantically for any sign of the dog. Mickey finally spotted the Bull Mastiff sprinting quickly down the busy Chicago street.  “There he is!” Mickey pointed in Beau’s direction. “Let’s go!” Mickey took off running with Donald following closely behind him, both men pounding the pavement trying to catch up to Beau.  As Mickey got closer, he could see Beau trailing close behind one particular man who had apparently discovered he was being targeted by the dog because he was hauling ass and looking back occasionally in horror at the beast running after him.  He had short brown hair, about six feet tall, Mickey guessed. It was hard to tell while running full speed trying to catch up to the bastard.  Who was this guy? And why was Beau so intent on catching him? Could he have something to do with Max’s murder? Mickey had a feeling Beau was on to something and doubled his efforts, pumping his arms and legs even harder.

            The brown haired man suddenly stopped and jumped into one of the cars that were parked in a metered parking spot. It was a black Cadillac, late model.   Mickey and Donald were still several feet behind, but Beau had caught up to him and was jumping up and down the side of the car, scratching at the closed window with his sharp claws and barking ferociously.  He fell back down on his front legs though as the car sped off down the street.  Mickey and Donald finally made it to the empty parking spot as Beau watched the guy drive off, pacing back and forth and panting loudly. 

            Mickey and Donald doubled over trying to catch their breath.  “Who…the fuck….. was that?” Donald asked in between gasps of breath.

            Mickey hesitated a few seconds, gasping for breaths of his own. “I think that was Max’s killer.” At the mention of Max’s name, Beau looked over at Mickey and barked one time. Mickey walked over and hunched down so that he was eye level with the dog.  “Beau, was that the guy who killed Max?” Another bark. “I’ll be god dammed.” Mickey rubbed Beau behind his ear while the dog continued to pant and slobber hung loosely from his mouth. Mickey didn’t even care.

            “You actually think that dog knows who Max’s killer is and recognized him from all the way up there?” Donald questioned, gesturing back toward the precinct’s building.

            Mickey stood back up to face Donald, his tone turning automatically defensive. “Considering this is the only fucking lead we got, yeah. He seems to know a hell of a lot more than we do. I’m telling you, this dog is fucking smart as hell.”

            “Bullshit, man.”

            “Do you want to argue with me some more, or do you want to help me find this fucker?”

            “And how do you suggest we do that? I ain’t no goddamn Usain Bolt. Besides, motherfucker is long gone by now.”

            Just then a Ford Fiesta came whizzing by but not before Mickey stopped in front of it, causing the teenager behind the wheel to slam on brakes. It wasn’t the fastest car by any means, but under the circumstances, it would have to do.

 “What the fuck, man? I almost hit you!” the kid yelled.

            Mickey flashed his badge at him. “Chicago Police! We need to use your car for official police business!”

            The kid didn’t give them any shit and scrambled to get out of the driver’s seat and jumped in the backseat which was packed with grocery bags.  Mickey jumped in the driver’s seat with Donald getting in beside him and they took off, tires screeching as they sped off down the street, picking up Beau on the way, who had ventured off several feet down the street. Beau jumped in the backseat with the kid, plopping his big ass down right on top of the groceries. “What the fuck?” the teenager shrieked.

Mickey  turned to watch his reaction to Beau.  He didn’t have time to deal with a scared kid losing his shit over his dog. The teenager watched the dog out of the corner of his eye, looking like he was too scared to move, much less look over at him.  Mickey felt a momentary pang of sympathy for the kid. Beau really was a fucking beast. “What’s your name, kid?” Mickey asked.

            “Uh, Herman. Herman Bowden.” Herman’s panic registered on his face as Beau’s head loomed over the kid, slobber hanging out of his mouth.  One of the strands of slobber fell on the teenager’s hoodie and he let out a cry. “Ew! Gross!”

            “Don’t worry, that shit will wash right out,” Mickey told him, reverting back to the task at hand. “Okay, he went this way right?” Mickey asked, pointed to his left. Beau barked.  The kid covered his ears and Mickey just shook his head. Damn that dog was smart. And fucking loud, especially in the cramped, small ass car.

            They navigated through the busy Chicago streets, Mickey getting frustrated with the car when it wouldn’t go as fast as he wanted it to.  “Come on you piece of shit!”

            Herman was practically in tears, taking this opportunity to confess all his sins like they were his fucking priests or something and not the Chicago police department. “Dude, this is my mom’s car. She sent me to get groceries and I stopped to buy me a pack of cigarettes even though I’m not eighteen yet, but there’s this gas station on 54th street that doesn’t card and I took a shortcut through town. I’m not supposed to be on this side of town, I’m just not. And if she finds out that….…”

            “Shut up, Herman!” Both men bellowed at the same time. They came up on a black car and Beau started growling, scaring poor Herman shitless. As they got closer, they realized it was the Cadillac they were looking for.

            “Bingo.  Got you, you motherfucker,” Mickey sneered. “Okay, read that plate number out to me,” Mickey said to Donald. Mickey found a pen in the console. “Here kid,” he said, handing the pen to Herman. “Write down what we tell you.  I don’t care if you have to write it on a fucking cereal box, just do it!”

            Herman grabbed the pen with a shaking hand and just said a weak, “Okay.”

            Donald started frantically reading out the plate number . “AO3 5, no, 358.  No, AO3 328.  Fuck, I can’t see it clear enough.  Try to get closer.”

            “Jesus Christ, man. If I get any fucking closer, I’m going to be kissing his tailpipe!” Mickey glanced in his rear view mirror to see Herman focusing on trying to read the plate too, with one hand over his left eye. “What the fuck are you doing? Taking a fucking eye exam?! Leave the goddamn police work to the experts!” Herman just shrunk down in his seat and wisely kept his mouth shut.

            When Mickey got close enough to the car for him to see, Donald called the plate number out one more time for Herman to write down, until they came up on a traffic light that had turned red.  The Cadillac sped right through it but their car didn’t throttle worth a damn plus the multitude of cars blocked their path, so they were left in the dust as the Cadillac drove out of sight. Mickey jumped out to watch where it went, but it was no use.  The car, and their alleged perpetrator, were gone. Mickey groused at the boy in the backseat as he got back in the car and slammed the door. “Goddamnit, Herman! You tell your mom to get a car with some fucking muscle!” Mickey let out a frustrated sigh as they turned around and headed back toward the precinct.  He silently hoped that this new little bit of information would give them a much needed break in the investigation.

______________________________________________________________________________________

            “The car is registered to a Tony Martone, whose last known address is the Skylark Motel over on Archer, and guess what?” Mickey rambled on, excited to finally have some information to report to Martin about Max’s case. Martin just sat behind his desk, reading over the DMV report Mickey gave him, his arm propped up and his chin resting in his hand, waiting for Mickey to come up for air.  “His last known employer is the mechanic shop across the street from Max’s place, you know, the one he was always complaining about?”

            The Chief sighed tiredly. “How do you even know that it was Tony….. what was his name?” Martin waved his hand through the air for effect.

            “Martone.”

            “Martone, who was even in the car?”

            “My dog, Beau identified him.  We tailed him based on that.” It made perfect sense to Mickey.  He thought the Chief would be happy about this.  But looking across the desk at him now, of all the ways he could possibly look, happy was definitely not one of them.

            “So, let me get this straight,” Martin began.  “You not only put the life of one of Chicago’s residents in danger, but you stole his car, scared your partner half to death, and went on the hunch of a _dog_ that chased some guy down the street who may or may not be Tony Martone. I mean, just because the car was registered to a Tony Martone doesn’t mean that’s who got in that damn car, Milkovich.”

            Now it was Mickey’s turn to sigh.  “I realize that, Chief. But this is the only lead we’ve got right now, and I don’t want to waste time overanalyzing it. We need to act fast.  I need to get inside that mechanic shop.”

            “Oh, I see.  So you just want to waste the department’s time and resources on something that may not pan out to be anything. Am I understanding you correctly?”

            Mickey was losing his patience with his boss.  He didn’t have time for this shit.  And the only reason he hadn’t told his chief to get the humongous stick out of his ass yet was because he needed a search warrant, and his boss had to approve it. “Look, all I’m saying is that Beau recognized this guy and he works at the mechanic shop.  Those two things have to be connected.  I think Max was murdered to cover something up.”

            “Max was an old, ornery man who was always complaining about something, Milkovich.  That doesn’t prove anything.”

            “But the very next day after he calls me out there to his house, he gets murdered? Chief, something stinks and I think we should at least check it out.”

            Martin rocked back in his chair as he contemplated his options.  Finally, he spoke while pointing a finger straight at Mickey. “Okay, Milkovich, I’ll get you your search warrant.  But let me tell you something.  If this turns out to be a dead end, which I’m pretty fucking sure it will, I am putting your ass on the desk for the rest of your time here.  And I am rescinding my recommendation to Cypress Beach.”

            Goddamn that was harsh.  But Mickey had a gut feeling about this Tony guy and he had to follow it.  He wasn’t too worried because nine times out of ten his gut feelings were never wrong. He just hoped this wasn’t that one time.  “Thank you, Chief.  Thank you.” Mickey moved to stand and added before he left the office. “I’m gonna get this fucker, Chief.  I promise you that.”

            Mickey turned and headed for the door and as he left the office, he heard Martin mutter softly, “Yeah, so you keep saying.” He kept walking, undeterred as he heard the Chief dialing a number on his phone, hopefully the number to the courthouse.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

            Mickey reveled in the feel of the hot water that was currently streaming down his tired body.  But it was a good tired.  In fact, Mickey felt on top of the world.   Not only did he finally have a break in Max’s case and was one step closer to finding his killer, but he was also going to see Ian in a couple hours.  Mickey couldn’t remember a time he was so excited about seeing a man.  His past casual hook ups had always been just a pretty face and a hard dick.  Sometimes not even a pretty face.  And one time not even a hard dick. It didn’t really matter anyway, they were just a means to an end.

            Ian was funny, charismatic, and sexy as fuck.  And Mickey actually _liked_ him, which was more than he could say for anyone else he’d been with in the past few years. Just thinking about him got Mickey hard.  As excited as Ian made him considering the fact that they hadn’t even kissed yet, Mickey could only imagine how hot they would be in bed.  With that salacious thought permeating every part of his brain, he reached up and grabbed the shower knob and quickly snatched it to the right.  He gasped as cold water rained down on his skin, cooling the heat of it and effectively deflating his hard on.

            As he toweled off a few minutes later, he heard some unfamiliar noise coming from the front of the house.  Mickey mentally took note of where he had left his gun.  It was on the bar in his kitchen.  Shit. He felt naked and it had nothing to do with him actually being naked. With his towel wrapped around his waist, he made his way slowly toward the front door.  When he peaked around the corner from the hallway, he saw that the door was open.  He sprinted to the kitchen and quickly grabbed and cocked his gun.  He investigated the house and found nothing amiss except for one thing.  Beau was missing.  Fuck.   Did he leave the front door open and he wandered off? Or had someone come in and taken him?

            Mickey felt dread and panic pool in his stomach as he began frantically searching the house for his dog. Mickey had planned on taking Beau over to the clinic with him when he went to see Ian, so he had just left Beau out and hadn’t put him in the basement since they weren’t going to be there that long anyway, just long enough for Mickey to get a shower and change. 

            Mickey ran outside in search of him, not giving two shits about the crazy looks he got from his nosy neighbors. Dammit, Beau wasn’t anywhere to be found.  Mickey had decided to get dressed and go out searching for him when he heard his cell phone singing, “ _Doctor, doctor, give me the news. I got a bad case of loving you.”_ That was Ian.  Mickey had changed his text ringtone for Ian yesterday when he was bored and horny and thinking about the redhead. What the fuck ever, it was an awesome song.

            _Ian (5:32pm) Are you missing a dog?_

Oh, thank fuck. Mickey let out a sigh of relief then chided himself for being that worried over a damn dog.  But he couldn’t help it, he had really come to like the mutt.

            _Mickey (5:33pm) Yes. He’s there?_

_Ian (5:34pm) Yep.  Showed up just a few minutes ago.  He and Lucy are playing in the doggie playground behind the clinic_

What the hell was a doggie playground?

_Mickey (5:35pm) Thank U.  Will be there shortly_

_Ian (5:36pm) I can’t wait_

_Mickey (5:37pm) Don’t even think about saying we’re even now. You still owe me_

_Ian (5:38pm) Then get your ass over here_

Thirty seconds later, Mickey was headed out the door to do just that.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is nothing but smut, and I'm not even sorry:). Everything between the boys finally comes to a head, so to speak!

Chapter 6

            Ian couldn’t remember a time when he had ever been so damn nervous.  He had been with a countless number of men over the years and he certainly knew what the fuck he was doing, so what was it about Mickey that made his palms sweat and his heart rate accelerate? Was it his looks? He was definitely hot as fuck with his jet black hair and well defined arms and chest. But Ian had been with hot men before.  Really hot men. Was it the bad ass South Side attitude that he liked so much? He wasn’t sure, but all he knew was that the detective drove him absolutely fucking crazy.  The other night before Mr. Shanks interrupted them, he was more than excited about the fact that he was about to get to know the other man much more intimately.  He could have literally strangled Mr. Shanks with his bare hands and his damn dog too, but that probably would’ve been bad for business.

            Ian wasn’t even going to consider the things his sister Debbie had told him because the more he got to know Mickey, the less valid her points became.  Mickey wasn’t anything like the boy or the Milkovich family in which she described.  But even if he was, he wasn’t going to think about it right now.  The next few hours or however long it took him to get his fill of Mickey were going to be all about feeling, not thinking.  Feeling pleasure from the sex, but also the feelings Mickey gave Ian.  Mickey made Ian feel alive. As nervous as he was about what was about to happen, he had never been more sure about anything in his life.  He wasn’t going to question it or think about it.  He was just going to enjoy it.  It was a good nervous.  Mickey was like a damn drug that Ian craved, but was scared of trying because once he did, he knew he would never get enough.

            Maybe that’s what it was, why he was so nervous.  Ian knew that once they crossed that line, there was probably going to be no turning back.  Mickey was the most enthralling, fascinating man Ian had ever met and deep down he knew that Mickey was different.  He felt it whenever he got around him.  Everything with him felt different and new and exciting.  Like he had never really and truly lived until he met the detective.  God he sounded like one of those damn romantic chick flicks, but it was true.  He loved how Mickey made him feel and he wanted to keep on feeling it.

            Ian was running around his bedroom on the second floor of the clinic frantically trying to straighten up his pig stye of a room, since Mickey’s visit was coming a little sooner than they had planned. Ian was shocked when he came out of his office from reviewing charts to see Beau standing in the lobby area.  He immediately smiled because he thought Mickey was with him, but when he discovered that he in fact wasn’t, he became concerned because, as much as Mickey liked to deny it, Ian knew that he cared about the dog, and was probably worried sick about him.  He put Beau and Lucy outside in the doggie playground he had built with the help of his brothers, and immediately texted Mickey.

            Maybe Beau was playing matchmaker between him and Mickey.  Dogs are extremely smart and have been known to do some amazing things when it came to their humans.  But as romantic as the notion sounded, it more than likely had to do more with Beau’s infatuation with his dog, Lucy, than anything remotely involving Mickey or Ian.  But, nonetheless, Ian was happy Beau had come to his clinic because that meant he would be seeing Mickey even sooner than expected, and that made Ian smile widely and get all warm and tingly inside.  He really had it bad for the detective.

            A loud knock on the front door of the clinic broke Ian from his reverie and him practically jump out of his skin with anticipation.  He couldn’t get downstairs and to the front door fast enough.

____________________________________________________________________________________

            Mickey stood outside the clinic, waiting anxiously for the handsome redhead to answer the door.  He heard fast, heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, then a pause of silence.  He could’ve sworn he heard a heavy sigh being released, but he immediately forgot about it when the front door swung open and that fine specimen of a man greeted him with bright eyes and an even brighter smile.  God he was fucking gorgeous. He was wearing jeans and a forest green Henley that contrasted perfectly with his fire red hair and pale skin.  He was a tall, sexy drink of water and Mickey was parched.

            Mickey’s eyes traveled down his lean, muscular body and back up again in time to see Ian doing the same.  Their eyes met and for a second they just stood there, gaping at each other, both seemingly at a loss of what to say which was ironic considering how much they had talked since they had first met.  Mickey was scared shitless because he knew that once he crossed that threshold, everything between them would change.  He could tell himself that it was just a hook up, but Mickey knew it was much more, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself.  He was falling for this man and he had no idea how he was going to handle it when he had to leave. 

            Life just fucking sucked sometimes.  Why couldn’t things just be simple, cut and dry, black and white? No, everything had to be complicated, wet, and gray.  Here’s this great guy who had come to mean more to Mickey than anyone had in a really long time, and the only thing that was going to come of it was his own broken heart.  He wasn’t sure how Ian felt about him and it was probably better if he didn’t know.  That would make things that much harder.  Or maybe Ian didn’t see Mickey in the same way, but from the time they had spent together, it seemed Ian did, but who knows? All Mickey did know was what he felt, and as painful as it may end up being, it felt too good right now to deny.

            “Hey, man,” Mickey said as he stepped inside and Ian shut the door behind him.

            “Hey, yourself.” They both smiled at what had become their usual greetings.

            “How’s Beau?” Mickey hadn’t been worried about the dog as soon as he got the text from Ian since he knew that he was in good, capable hands. “Thanks for taking care of him.”

            “Of course.  He and Lucy are back inside in their room, happy as can be.” Ian and Mickey walked further into the front lobby, side by side, almost bumping shoulders. “Would you like a drink? I’ve got beer in the fridge in my office.”

Mickey nodded. “Yeah, man.  That would be good.” Mickey put his hands in his pockets, watching the redhead walk away, admiring his ass the entire time until he disappeared into his office. Goddamn that man was sexy. “So, I got a question for you.” Mickey raised his voice so Ian could hear him in the other room.

            “Shoot, detective.” Mickey couldn’t help but grin stupidly at Ian’s choice of words.  It kind of turned him on.  Who was he kidding? At this point, a wet mop would turn him on.

            “Do you ever fucking leave this place? Don’t you have a home to go to? You know, your fancy North Side apartment and all?”  Ian was walking back toward him with a beer in each hand and Mickey took the opportunity to admire him from the front.  Hmm, even better.

            “Yeah,  but I stay late working so much that I built a bedroom and bathroom upstairs so that when it gets too late I can just crash here.” Ian handed Mickey his beer and took a swig of his own, both of them exchanging a look when their fingers brushed lightly.

            They stood a few feet away from each other and stared each other down as they both drank from their bottles. Mickey swallowed thickly as he watched Ian’s lips as they wrapped around the bottle.  Ian made drinking beer into an art form.  Well, if he was being honest, Ian made everything he did into an art form and it made Mickey fucking crazy.  He continued to watch him with hooded eyes and Ian was staring at him lasciviously as he finally lowered the bottle from his lips. “I admire your dedication, Dr. Gallagher.” Mickey emphasized the word “doctor” as a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

            Ian swayed languidly toward Mickey, his green eyes laser focused on him as he got closer, so close that Mickey could feel his breathe on his face.  He smelled of toothpaste and beer and it was a heady combination. “Mmmm,” Ian hummed. “I love it when you call me that, Mick. That’s so fucking sexy.” Mickey’s breath hitched and a delicious heat spread over his skin, and it wasn’t from the alcohol.

It was a moment, just a moment, suspended in time, where they both stood with their faces just inches from each other, and a stillness came over the room for just a second, before the dam broke loose and their mouths crashed against each other as their half full beer bottles fell from their hands and shattered on the wooden floor underneath them. Ian picked Mickey up and slammed him against the wall beside the front door, knocking pictures off the wall in the process, but they just continued to devour each other as they heard more glass shattering and wooden picture frames breaking apart.  All they cared about in that moment was each other and couldn’t give a fuck about anything else even if they wanted to. But they didn’t.

            Ian held Mickey up with his strong legs and used the wall to support his weight as Mickey wrapped his legs around Ian’s waist.  Their mouths were a tangle of tongues and teeth knocking together with the force of their kiss.  Mickey wrapped his arms around Ian’s neck as Ian rutted up against him in a steady rhythm, their hard cocks rubbing against each other through their jeans. Ian’s hands were against the wall on either side of Mickey’s head, caging him in, as Mickey dislodged his arms from around Ian’s neck to run his hands through his beautiful red hair.  He tugged lightly to turn Ian’s head to the side so he could kiss him even deeper. 

            No matter what either of them did, they just couldn’t get close enough to each other.  They clung to each other like their lives depended on it, so consumed by it all.  They had both thought about this, dreamt about this, and finally, fucking finally, it was happening.

            Mickey grabbed Ian’s shirt from the back and pulled it over his head, having to break apart from each other’s hot, wet mouths for a second.  But the moment the shirt was gone, their mouths came back together with renewed force.  Ian licked into Mickey’s mouth and caused a moan to escape his lips.  Mickey answered him by taking his tongue and sucking it into his mouth.  “Goddamn, you taste good, Mick.”

            Mickey normally wouldn’t let a man pick him up and hold him like this like some bitch but with Ian, it seemed all his fucking rules were thrown out the window. He was at Ian’s mercy and he fucking loved every minute of it. “Take me to the bedroom. Now.” Ian didn’t waste another second, grabbing Mickey under his thighs and hefting him toward the staircase.   “Watch the glass, man.” When they reached the bottom of the staircase, as they continued to kiss fervently, Ian only made it a couple steps before they fell in a heap, Mickey’s back hitting the wooden stairs hard with the force of Ian’s weight on him.  “Ow! Goddamn, Gallagher.”

            The way they landed had Ian’s head right at Mickey’s stomach, so he pulled himself up to check on Mickey to make sure he wasn’t hurt. “Shit, Mick.  I’m sorry.  Are you okay?”

            “Shut the fuck up and take off these jeans.” Mickey began to work on Ian’s belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, immediately shoving his hand down Ian’s boxer briefs and feeling his long, hard cock in his hand.  Ian groaned at the contact. Mickey looked at Ian with lust in his eyes.  “I can’t wait to see how you taste.”

            “Fuuuck, Mick. That feels good.” His eyes closed in ecstasy as Mickey worked him, stroking him hard and fast with his hand.

            Mickey released him and grabbed Ian’s jeans and boxer briefs and yanked them both down to his ankles.  Ian quickly pulled them off along with his shoes and threw them down to the floor below them somewhere. “Put your knees right above my shoulders.” Mickey laid back on the stairs waiting for Ian to do what he asked. 

            Ian quickly obliged, realizing Mickey’s intent.  His heartbeat quickened in anticipation. This was the sexiest thing Ian had ever seen, having a man laid out with an eager mouth waiting on him to fill it up with his cock.  Ian couldn’t even think right now, his mind so fulfilled with all things Mickey.  The way he looked, the way he tasted, the way he sounded.  And in just a second, he would know how he felt around his cock.  The man was absolutely intoxicating.  He could drink twenty of those beers and not get as drunk as he was on Mickey.

As he planted his knees, his cock bounced up and down while Mickey’s tongue darted out and licked each time on the downward movement, his hands resting on Ian’s back.  Ian grabbed onto his cock and guided it with his hand to Mickey’s mouth, groaning filthily as Mickey took him in, swirling his tongue around the head then sucking on the tip and the precum that leaked there. On the third rotation around, Mickey suddenly swallowed him down as much as he could and used his hand to make up the difference.  He sucked hard up and down, over and over, twisting his hand at the same time.

Ian let his head fall back in pleasure as he moaned loudly, the sound reverberating around the room. He gripped the banisters on either side of the stairs and dug his nails into the distressed wood.  Instinctively, he rolled his hips, fucking into Mickey’s mouth, pulling back when he felt his cock hit the back of Mickey’s throat.  Mickey cocked his eyebrows and scraped his nails down Ian’s back, causing Ian to hiss softly from the slight pain.  The pleasure was more than overpowering the pain.  Besides, Ian didn’t mind a little pain.  In fact, he fucking loved it.  Mickey’s hands came down to rest on Ian’s ass as he began to push Ian deeper down his throat.  With each push on Ian’s ass, Mickey swallowed, his throat muscles massaging Ian’s cock. Holy fucking shit.

“Fuck, Mick.  That feels so fucking good.” It was better than any dream Ian had or any fantasy he could ever have.  Goddamn, he knew how to work a cock.  And most guys Ian had been with gagged when they gave him head since he was so big, but Mickey sucked him down like a fucking pro. He had to have no gag reflex or something.  Unbelievable. 

Ian looked as though he was falling apart, and Mickey loved it.  He had never gotten so much pleasure from giving head before.  He had always gone through the motions, sucking whatever cock was in front of him, but he selfishly always enjoyed received a blow job a hell of a lot more than giving one.  Until now.  It was yet another new experience for him brought on by the sexy as fuck man above him.  Ian brought something out in Mickey that made him want to please him in every way possible.  It’s like he had some kind of spell over him that he never wanted to be awakened from.

After a couple more minutes, Mickey released Ian’s cock from his mouth.  “I knew you would fucking taste good,”

Before Ian could respond, Mickey cupped his hand around the back of Ian’s neck and pulled him down into another hot, wet kiss that went on for a few seconds but felt like days.  Ian finally broke away from the kiss and rubbed his hand up and down Mickey’s arm.  “You are amazing.” Ian nodded toward the top of the stairs. “Come on, baby.  I want to fuck you.”

“Fuck yeah,” Mickey said as he and Ian both stood up and ran up the stairs, both naked with their cocks bobbing in the air. They laughed as they pinched and tickled each other on their way to the bedroom, just enjoying being with each other, being together.  Once they finally got there, all the laughter and silliness dissipated and gave way to sensual and unadulterated passion.

Ian carefully laid Mickey back on the bed and grabbed a pillow and placed it behind his head. Ian lay flush against Mickey, kissing into his mouth languidly as they explored each other’s bodies with their hands, learning every line and every sinewy muscle.  While they kissed, Ian reached around the grabbed a handful of Mickey’s ass with one hand while his other hand snaked around the back of his neck and kneaded the skin there, his nails lightly scratching.  He massaged Mickey’s plump ass, admiring how good it felt in his hands. “This ass is glorious.”

Mickey just scoffed and chided him playfully. “You quit kissing me to tell me something I already fucking know?”

“Well, excuse me, detective.” Ian changed speeds and smashed his lips to Mickey’s this time, kissing him hungrily.   Mickey seemed to respond more to that, judging by the moans of pleasure coming from his mouth, and Ian took note. He made his way down Mickey’s body, peppering him with soft, wet kisses along the way.  He bit and licked at each hip and across his stomach.  Mickey’s hands were in Ian’s hair, very subtly pushing his head down, making his need known, but Ian wanted to prolong this as long as possible to drive his man crazy.

Ian left a trail of kisses down the top of one of Mickey’s thighs then went back up again and down the top of the other thigh.  He bit and sucked the inside of each thigh and came back around to the middle and placed his nose into the smattering of hair there and took a deep breath in.  He smelled of body wash, musk, and Mickey.  He had his own unique smell and it was intoxicating. As he continued to breathe Mickey in, his hands roamed over his broad chest, pinching both of his nipples at the same time. By this point, Mickey was practically whining for some relief for his hard, thick cock.  Just when Ian had him right where he wanted him, basically right before the point of begging, he grabbed Mickey’s thick thighs with his hands and quickly licked a long stripe straight up the back of Mickey’s cock, causing the man below him to buck his hips in surprise. Ian’s tongue stayed in place so that when Mickey came back down, his tongue would automatically lick from root to tip again.  “Fuck!”

When Mickey’s hips came down, Ian wasted no time in rounding the top and swallowing him down eagerly.  Fuck, Ian was good at that.  Mickey had gotten plenty of head in his time, but nothing like this.  Ian would of course turn a blow job into an art form too.  His mouth was unfuckingbelievable.

Ian continued to suck relentlessly, bobbing his head up and down in a steady rhythm that was so perfect, if he didn’t stop soon, Mickey wasn’t going to last. As much as Mickey wanted it to continue, he didn’t want this to be over that soon.  He brushed his fingers through Ian’s hair and muttered, “Hey, man.  I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.”

Ian removed Mickey’s cock from his mouth with a pop, grabbed him behind the knees, and pulled his legs up and spread them wide to allow him easy access.  Before Mickey knew what was happening, Ian dropped his head and was licking over the tight ring of muscles of Mickey’s hole, flicking his long tongue back and forth in quick succession. “Holy fucking shit!” Mickey screamed in pleasure and Ian couldn’t help but smile at the sounds he was making.  He loved that he did that to him.  He plunged his tongue as deep as it would go and fucked Mickey with it until he was wrecked and groaning uncontrollably. Ian stopped what he was doing and carefully let his legs back down, rubbing his thighs as he made his way back up to his lover.  Mickey unexpectedly grabbed Ian by his neck and pulled him down, wrapping his arms around the redhead’s shoulders and kissing him with everything he had in him.  The kiss was desperate, passionate, and holy hell was it hot.  If this was the way Mickey showed his appreciation for something he really enjoyed, Ian would definitely have to do it again.  Ian took note.

With Mickey’s arms still wrapped around Ian’s shoulders pulling him as close to him as he could get, they laid like that for a couple minutes, kissing and then sucking on each other’s necks until all of a sudden, Mickey flipped them and he was on top, straddling Ian’s waist. He leaned down and placed a kiss on the shocked man’s lips.  “Just tell me one thing.”

“Yes, detective?” Ian laced his fingers behind his head and stared up into Mickey’s eyes expectantly, smiling that wide smile that Mickey just loved.

Mickey summoned the courage to ask him the one question he had been wondering about since they met, even though his timing pretty much sucked. “Please tell me you’re a top.”

Ian laughed out loud, grabbing Mickey by the shoulders and rolling them back over so that he was again on top, relieved that Mickey had pretty much answered his own question with his question. Ian thought for sure with Mickey’s bad ass attitude that there was no way he was a bottom. Ian was so relieved he didn’t know what to do.  He placed his hands on either side of Mickey’s head and looked down into those pools of blue.  “Yes, I’m a top.”

“Well, then get on it, man.” They both laughed then and kissed some more.  Ian didn’t know of anything better than kissing Mickey, except for maybe fucking Mickey.  He tore his lips away from Mickey’s long enough to grab the lube and a condom from the nightstand.  Mickey had gotten on all fours and was ready for him.  As much as he was thankful they were finally taking this step, he still felt vulnerable and wasn’t comfortable fucking face to face yet.  Mickey hated feeling like that, but he just couldn’t help it.  But, of course, Ian knew just what to say to make him feel more comfortable.

“You look sexy as hell like that, Mick.” Mickey loved it every time Ian called him Mick.  Something about the way he said it.  Nobody had ever called him that before and he didn’t know if it would even sound right coming from anybody else now.  It was only Ian’s. Ian slicked up one finger and slowly breeched Mickey’s hole.  He heard him hiss as his finger plunged down to the knuckle.  “You okay?”

“Yeah, man.  Keep going.” The burn of that first intrusion gave way to pleasure as Ian pushed in another lubed up finger.  He turned his fingers and crooked them upwards then straightened them out again as he circled his hole, stretching him as best he could.  “Fuck, even that feels good.  I can’t wait to have that monster in me.”

Ian had to tease him a little bit. “Think you can handle it, Mick?” Ian was strictly being facetious because he just knew Mickey could take it and take it fucking good.

“You’ll see.” That was all Mickey said and frankly that’s all that needed to be said.  “Ah, fuck,” Mickey moaned as Ian slicked up a third finger and pushed it inside him.  “I need that cock, Ian.  Come on, I’m ready.” Ian needed no further encouragement.   He put the condom wrapper between his teeth and ripped it open, spitting the torn off piece onto the floor. As he was about to put the condom on, Mickey suddenly turned around, surprising Ian yet again. “No, let me.”

Without waiting for a response, Mickey grabbed the wrapper and discarded it on the floor.  Ian leaned back on his hands and watched Mickey in action. Achingly slowly, Mickey rolled the condom on Ian’s length, earning a grunt from the redhead.  He grabbed the lube and squirted a generous amount on his cock, then stroked it up and down, making sure he was completely covered and driving Ian crazy in the process.  “You are killing me, Mick.”

Without a word, Mickey got back into position on all fours, waiting for Ian.  Ian got up on his knees and lined his cock up with Mickey’s hole.  He pushed in slowly until the tip was in and stopped.  “You okay, Mick?”

“Man, I’m not made of glass, I ain’t gonna break.  Get in me.”

Ian heeded Mickey’s words and pushed the rest of the way in, albeit slowly.  He shimmied his hips back and forth to allow more room for his considerable length until he was finally, completely sheathed by Mickey’s ass.  “Fuck, Mick, you are so damn tight.  Your ass feels so good.”

Ian began pushing in and out, setting a steady pace.  When he was sure he wasn’t hurting Mickey, he started pounding mercilessly, grabbing Mickey’s hips roughly with each thrust.  Eventually, Ian worked up to a punishing rhythm, pistoning into Mickey’s prostate.  This seemed to spur Mickey on because no matter how fast he fucked him, Mickey pushed back with his hips and fucked himself on Ian’s dick.  With Ian pushing into him and Mickey pushing back onto him, they met in the middle in an explosion of pleasure. With the force of Ian’s thrusts, Mickey was pushed further up the bed until his head was right up against the shaking headboard. Mickey grabbed it at the top which brought him up on his knees. Ian followed to keep their connection and adjusted to the new angle. 

Once he established a new rhythm, Mickey kept one hand on the headboard and reached back behind him with the other and grabbed Ian’s hair roughly at the nape of his neck.  He pulled Ian’s head forward with each snap of his hips. Ian nipped at Mickey’s neck as he fucked him, the myriad of sensations driving Mickey fucking wild.  “Yes, Ian! Fuck, right there! Holy motherfucker!”  They were now both panting and breathing hard.  Ian had an idea and stopped fucking into Mickey long enough to knock all the pillows off the bed. “What the fuck, Ian?!”

“Scoot up, put both of your hands on top of the headboard.”  Mickey was too far gone to question whatever the fuck Ian had in mind.  He just went with it and complied, moving forward on his knees. When his hands were on the headboard, Ian sat down with his legs tucked up under him, his cock standing straight up.  “Now, sit down.” Mickey looked back at Ian who was holding his cock, waiting on him to lower himself down on it.  Mickey squatted down until he felt Ian’s tip in his hole.  Once he knew they were aligned, he slammed his ass down until he was fully seated. 

They both groaned incoherently at the new position. Mickey just sat there, reveling in the feel of Ian’s cock filling up his ass.  He was so full, much fuller than he had ever been in his life, in more ways than one.  He never knew sex could be this fucking incredible.  He let his head loll back onto Ian’s shoulder, his back to Ian’s muscled chest.  He placed soft kisses down the side of Mickey’s face and when he reached his neck, Mickey cocked his head to the side to allow him more room.  Ian, not one to waste an opportunity, began sucking and biting into Mickey’s neck, then licking the marks he left behind. 

“Shit, Mick.  You feel so good around my cock.  See how well we fit together?” In answer to the Ian’s sexy words, Mickey started rotating his hips, the feeling of Ian’s cock brushing the nerves deep inside him almost too much for him to bear. Ian darting his tongue into Mickey’s ear, then sucked naughtily on his lobe.  His lips came back up to his ear as he whispered hotly. “Fuck, baby.  I want you to ride my cock fast and hard.”

Ian’s words sent a shiver down Mickey’s spine as he pulled himself up with the headboard and almost off of Ian’s cock, slamming back down fast and hard, using his strong thighs in the effort. Ian’s hands were braced on the bed behind him and every time Mickey sat down on his cock, Ian thrust his hips to push him back up.  Once Mickey got his rhythm going, he started literally bouncing up and down on Ian’s cock, both of them screaming a litany of curses every time his cock disappeared in Mickey’s ass. “Your…..cock…..feels……so…..good, “ Mickey punched out a word with each bounce on Ian’s lap. 

“Get it, Mick. Ride that cock, baby.”

 “Oh god, fuck me, Ian! I’m so fucking close.” Taking his cue, Ian brought his hand around and was about to grab Mickey’s cock to give him some much needed relief, when suddenly Mickey stopped him, swatting his hand away. “No, don’t. I want to…..! I’ve never……I’ve never……oh, fuck!”

Ian knew exactly what Mickey was trying to say and the realization gave Ian such a thrill that he renewed his efforts, pumping his hips even harder every time Mickey came down. All of a sudden, Mickey cried out and was coming hard and shooting his load all over the headboard.  He sat down completely on Ian’s cock, not able to move as his orgasm rippled through his body in waves of pleasure. Mickey’s muscles were clenching and massaging Ian’s dick and it felt so good Ian was sure he would come too.  Mickey’s limbs seemed to turn to liquid after he came down from his aftershocks. “I’m sorry, Ian.  I can’f fucking move right now.”

  “It’s okay, baby.  I got you.” Ian grabbed Mickey around his waist and angled his body forward just enough to give him enough room to thrust into Mickey’s ass a few more times.  That’s all it took before Ian stilled inside Mickey when he came and filled the condom with his seed.  “Fuck!”

Ian collapsed on his back beside Mickey, who fell to the bed, spent, at the same time. “Holy shit,” Ian breathed, while they both tried to slow their breathing and calm their heart beats. Mickey looked over at Ian who was staring up at the ceiling.  When he noticed Mickey looking at him, he turned toward him and rubbed his hand up and down his back.  “You okay?”

Mickey breathed a laugh.  “If I was any better, I wouldn’t be able to stand myself.” His eyelids all of a sudden got really heavy but the last thing he wanted to do was sleep.

“Well, I like you. A lot.”

Mickey smiled sheepishly.  “I like you too.” Ian ran the hand he had on Mickey’s back up to his hair, running his fingers through it and scratching lightly at his scalp, causing Mickey’s eyes to flutter closed.  “Fuck, man, you keep doing that, I’m going to fall asleep right here in your bed.”

Ian shrugged his shoulders. “So? I wouldn’t mind one bit.”

“I would.  I don’t want to sleep.”

“What do you want to do?” Ian searched Mickey’s eyes, looking for any kind of regret or apprehension about what they had done.  There wasn’t any. But he had this nagging fear that Mickey was going to say he wanted to leave, but that’s the last thing Ian wanted.

“I want to take a shower.”

Ian released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He didn’t want to admit to himself how relieved he was. “Oh, okay.  The bathroom’s right across the hall.  Towels are in the cabinet above the toilet.”

“Thanks.” Mickey rose up on his elbows toward Ian and placed a soft kiss on his lips.  Ian’s eyes lit up as Mickey pulled away, causing a smile to spread across his face. Mickey turned over and swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.  As he made it to the bedroom door, he turned around, catching Ian slyly watching his naked ass.  He couldn’t help but laugh at the goofy redhead. Ian laughed right along with him. “Hey, you can’t blame me.  Your ass is sexy as fuck, Mick.”

Mickey walked back to the bed and threw himself on top of Ian, kissing him long and hard.  Ian responded immediately and returned the kiss eagerly.  Before they got anything started up again, Mickey reluctantly pulled himself away from the other man.  “I gotta get a shower.   I’m nasty as hell. Somebody made me work up a fucking sweat.”

“Don’t leave.  Just one more kiss.” He wrapped his hand around Mickey’s wrist, trying to pull him down on top of him again.

Mickey ignored Ian’s protests and turned to head to the bathroom again.  He got to the bedroom door and stopped, turning back around toward Ian and cocking his eyebrows. “You coming?”

A megawatt smile spread across Ian’s face as he leapt from the bed and chased Mickey into the bathroom.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is hot and heavy and wonderful between the boys.......until it isn't.

Chapter 7

The steam from the shower rose up, leaving a sheen of moisture across Mickey’s skin that mixed with his sweat, but all he cared about at the moment was the redhead whose lips were wrapped tight around his cock, bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm that had Mickey clawing at the wet tiles of the shower, desperate for something, anything to hold him up.  He felt like his knees were about to give out on him at any moment. “Goddamn it, Gallagher. Your mouth feels so good.”

Ian hummed his appreciation of Mickey’s compliment and the feeling vibrated all through Mickey’s body. He bent his head back and moaned.  He was facing away from the shower head and the hot water was hitting his back and running in a steady stream down his body.  The heat felt so good on his back while Ian’s mouth felt so good on his front and the combined sensations were almost too much.

Ian came back up to just the head of Mickey’s dick and began sucking just the tip, licking it clean of the precome that had formed there.  He ran his tongue down the underside and back up again, focusing on the throbbing vein that ran the length of Mickey’s cock. After working the underside several more times, he stopped at the base of his cock and ran his nose through the wet hair, breathing in Mickey’s unique scent, while looking up at Mickey and smiling.  Mickey had his head down now, watching with hooded eyes as Ian worked his cock.  Mickey had gotten many blow jobs in his day, but this was by far the best one he’d ever had.  Mickey figured Ian had to have taken classes or something because he was too damn good at it.  And he was driving Mickey absolutely crazy. And that sly smile he just gave Mickey told him that the fucker knew exactly the effect he was having on him.

Ian’s hand went between Mickey’s legs and before he knew what was happening, Ian had his balls in his hand, lightly playing with them.  He brought his mouth down to them and closed his lips around one, then the other, sucking lightly on each one as Mickey whimpered pitifully at how amazing it felt.  Mickey had never made noises before when he fucked, but damn if Ian didn’t bring something out in him.  All his inhibitions were lowered and he felt comfortable with Ian like he had never felt with anyone before. The man even made him come untouched.  That was definitely a first, but he hoped it wasn’t the last.  He just couldn’t control himself around the redhead.  And every time he made noises,  it seemed to excite Ian even more which made Mickey in turn want to make even more noises.  They had a connection that Mickey had never felt with anyone.  It was the most incredible feeling. “You taste so good, Mick.  I love sucking your cock.”

Ian came back up with his tongue firm against Mickey’s cock and swallowed him down again with his hand stroking under his mouth at the same time.  Up, down, over and over. “Oh, shit.  Ian, I’m gonna come. Fuck!” Ian stilled as Mickey’s come shot down his throat in hot streams.  He swallowed a couple more times,  massaging Mickey’s cock with his throat muscles, making sure to get everything Mickey had to offer. When he was satisfied that he had, he popped off Mickey’s now flaccid cock and stood up and locked eyes with Mickey.  “Holy……”

Before Mickey could finish what he was about to say, Ian wrapped his hand around Mickey’s neck and pulled him into a searing hot kiss as the water cascaded on them and around them.  Ian licked into Mickey’s mouth.  Mickey could taste himself on Ian’s tongue as he wrapped his hand around Ian’s neck as well and massaged the skin there.  Ian ran his hand up the back of Mickey’s head and grabbed his hair and tugged lightly so that they were looking at each other again, effectively breaking the kiss.  Mickey moved into Ian, trying to meet his lips, desperately needing to taste him again, but Ian pulled away from him.  Mickey’s eyes, that were trained previously on Ian’s full, red lips, moved up Ian’s beautiful face until their eyes were once again locked, Mickey raising his eyebrows expectantly. “I want to fuck you again,” Ian said softly.

Mickey smiled shyly.  “Well, fuck me then.”

Mickey turned and started to open the shower door, but Ian put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Then his lips replaced his hand, kissing Mickey’s warm skin in between each word as he spoke. “Right here, baby. I need you.”

 Before Mickey could react, Ian grabbed his shoulder again, turning him around roughly while snaking his arm around Mickey’s waist and lifting him up and slamming him against the shower wall.  Mickey was so taken aback by Ian’s vehemence that it took him a minute to realize the significance of this moment.  Mickey had never fucked anybody face to face before. It always felt too personal and he felt too vulnerable to have that kind of intimacy with someone. But this, this felt so right.  And so damn good.

Ian’s words interrupted Mickey’s inner thoughts. “Goddamn it, Mickey.  You drive me absolutely crazy.” He crashed their lips together as they kissed roughly, with a desperate need that raced through their veins along with their increasing heart beats. Mickey was clutching to Ian as they kissed, feeling as if he couldn’t get close enough. “Wrap your legs around my waist. I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.”

Mickey groaned at his words, knowing they were true and his skin prickled in anticipation. He did what Ian asked, wrapping his legs around his waist.  Ian moaned,  rubbing their rapidly filling cocks together while they kissed hungrily.  Ian bit Mickey’s bottom lip almost painfully while Mickey did the same with Ian’s top lip.  Mickey wrapped his arms around Ian’s neck and moved his hips in a steady rhythm, wanting to feel the friction of their bodies as heat exploded in his chest.  He felt so fucking good just standing there, his body flush against Mickey’s.  Mickey thought for sure he could just stay like that and be happy. 

Just when he was getting used to the idea, he felt a finger slip into his ass slowly, advancing until it was all the way down to the knuckle.  “Good, you’re still loose from earlier.”

“Hell yeah I am, having this monster up my ass. “ Mickey maneuvered his hand around Ian’s arm and grabbed Ian’s cock, wrapping his hand around it and stroking. 

“Jesus, Mickey.  You’re killing me here.” Mickey just smirked at him and continued his rhythm until he felt two more fingers breach his hole and he couldn’t focus on anything but that.

“You fucker,” Mickey teased as his head rested on Ian’s shoulder, his voice muffled. He lifted his head and ran his tongue across the vein in Ian’s neck, feeling his heart rate speed up and loving the fact that it was him doing that to him.  He nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin, the warmth from his heated flesh feeling amazing against Mickey’s tongue.  It was hot and wet and Mickey didn’t know if the wetness was sweat or water or a mixture of the two and he didn’t really fucking care. “You taste so fucking good, Ian.  Can’t wait to have that big cock filling me up.”

Ian grunted in response and placed his arms under Mickey’s thighs, hoisting him up a little higher.  Ian brought Mickey down, lining his cock up with Mickey’s hole and slamming into him with so much force, everything on the shelves fell to the shower floor.  “Fuck, Ian.  Yes! Harder! Give me that big cock.”

Mickey’s words just spurred Ian on and he did what Mickey said and thrust even harder and faster, loving the feel of Mickey around his cock.  Goddamn this man was amazing.  He took cock like no one Ian had ever seen.  No matter how hard or fast he fucked him, Mickey wanted more.  And Jesus, fuck, if it wasn’t hot as hell.  “You like my cock filling up your ass, don’t you?”

“God, yes. So fucking full.” Mickey used his hands on Ian’s shoulders as leverage and rose up and back down again, until he established a steady rhythm.  Their combined efforts caused both of them to moan incoherently, the voices infiltrating the small bathroom and echoing off the walls.  “Shit, I’m going to come again, Ian. I’m so close.”

Ian continued to piston into Mickey, hitting his prostate with each pounding.  “Come with me, baby.”

They moved together as one until they were both panting and writhing, their bodies shivering together with their simultaneous releases. Mickey came all over Ian’s chest while Ian came inside Mickey, filling up his hole with come.  “Son…..of….a….bitch,” Mickey punched out lazily, too spent to say anything else.  He slumped his body against Ian’s, who was barely able to stand himself.  He slowly pulled out of Mickey and carefully lowered him to his feet. 

“You are fucking incredible, Mickey.” His nuzzled into Mickey’s neck, kissing a path across his shoulder until he felt Mickey’s body tense suddenly.  He rose his head in silent alarm to see what was wrong.

Mickey looked up at him earnestly and Ian noticed a hint of worry on his face.  Ian didn’t like that at all and didn’t know the source of it, until it finally hit him.  He wrapped his hands around Mickey’s face and leaned down to kiss him tenderly and reassuringly. “Hey, you don’t have to worry.  I’m clean.  I just got tested last month. I’m sorry I didn’t think that through better, but I was just in the moment, you know? But I wouldn’t ever do anything to harm you, okay?” Ian kissed Mickey again, softly brushing his lips with his.

When they broke the kiss, Mickey nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “I know.  And just so you know, I’m clean, too.”

“Good.  Now that that’s settled, let’s get the hell out of this shower before this water gets fucking cold.”

They both stepped out, and dried themselves off with their towels. “What do you have planned tomorrow?”

Mickey thought for a moment.  “I’m waiting on the search warrant for that mechanic shop. Other than that, nothing.”

“Good.”

“Why is that good?”

Ian grabbed Mickey’s face again.  “Because,” he kissed him softly on the lips, “I want to make you and Beau breakfast.”

________________________________________________________________________________

No matter what Mickey did, he could not make the smile fade from his face, not that he really wanted to.  His day yesterday with Ian had been amazing.  And the sex was fucking incredible.  But it was so much more than that.  After they had showered, they got back in the bed and snuggled together, actually snuggled, and talked so long that they both lost track of time until they realized it was two in the morning and they both needed to get some sleep.  So Mickey and Beau left the clinic, both reluctantly, and headed back home. Mickey couldn’t believe he that he talked to Ian and also couldn’t believe that he actually snuggled with him.  Mickey wasn’t a talker, never had been, and he sure as hell wasn’t a snuggler.  Snuggling was for pussies, or so he had always thought.  But last night, lying in Ian’s arms, talking about their childhoods and the hell they both went through growing up, was so unlike anything he’d ever known.  And he loved the hell out of it.

Mickey had always heard the term intimacy, but had never experienced it first hand and was never looking for it honestly, but he felt like he finally understood what that word meant and it was liberating.  If anybody had told Mickey even a year ago that he would soon meet a man and want to be around him after the fucking and talk to him and lay with him enjoying his company, he would have kicked their fucking ass for saying something so repulsive. 

There was still the issue of telling Ian he was leaving, but what he was feeling right now felt so good, he didn’t want anything to ruin it.  He knew it was selfish and irresponsible, but he just couldn’t help it.  Ian made him happier than he could ever remember being.  And he didn’t want that feeling to fade just yet.  He wanted to hang on to it for as long as he could.  It wasn’t fair to Ian, he knew that.  He hated the thought of hurting him.  That’s the last thing he wanted to do.  He just hoped they would be able to work something out when he did leave.  Mickey didn’t want to lose Ian and he was willing to do whatever they would need to do.  He just hoped Ian would be willing to do the same.

As the morning sun shone brightly in the sky reflecting his mood, Mickey pulled into the parking garage of Ian’s apartment building, Beau’s heavy breathing a familiar comfort in his right ear.  As much as he hated to admit it, he had come to really like the mutt, so he was bringing him with him to Ian’s apartment for the breakfast Ian had promised them.  They got out of the car and made their way to the front lobby, Mickey getting more and more intimidated with each step onto the pristinely clean marble tile floor underneath his feet and each glance toward the ornately decorated chandeliers above his head.

Mickey had been to this apartment building before, but it was in a strictly professional capacity, so he had never even really took the time to look at the space before, too focused on the job he was there to do.   He had worked on several cases here.  One case he remembered in particular from several years ago involved the murder of a successful and highly respected heart surgeon. His wife had hired her boyfriend to kill her husband to collect the life insurance, promising him ten percent when the job was done.  Now, thanks to the work Mickey and his department did, the only money they would ever be collecting would be whatever was deposited into their commissary accounts. Mickey never thought he would ever be at this apartment building for any personal reason, much less to visit a guy he had been seeing.

When they got closer to the front desk and the crowd of people surrounding it, that’s when he saw him.  That shock of red hair was unmistakable.  He was turned away from him, talking to an older woman who was holding a small dog in her arms and rubbing over his fur affectionately. She turned around and walked away with a final wave toward Ian.  He stood there for a moment before turning around, their eyes meeting in an immediate heated gaze that had Mickey’s heart rate spiking instantly.  He looked so good in a black t-shirt and black sweat pants, that Mickey was practically salivating.  And then he smiled as soon as he saw Mickey.  Damn, that smile lit up the whole room and it felt like they were the only two people in it, everyone else just fading away into the background.

Mickey couldn’t help smiling back, it was just instinctual.  When you have something that gorgeous looking at you, you can’t help but smile.  Mickey walked up to him, and almost forgot how to speak.  The man was just too beautiful.

“Hey, Ian,” Mickey said. Ian grabbed Mickey by the arms and bent down and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.  Mickey smelled the now familiar scent of body wash and expensive cologne.  It was uniquely Ian and undeniably intoxicating.

“Hey yourself,” Ian replied.  He bent down and rubbed Beau’s head playfully.  “And hey to you too, Beau.” He kissed Beau on the top of his head and stood back up.

“Who’s your friend, Dr. Gallagher?” The male desk clerk asked cheerily enough, but his face told a different story as he gave Mickey a questioning look.  He had dark hair and dark skin and his name tag said Charlie.  He looked to be in his mid-30’s.  He was still looking at Mickey like he didn’t belong there and it was really starting to piss him off.  He clenched his fists at his sides but didn’t say anything.  Mickey heard a low growl escape from Beau, who apparently could sense Mickey’s discomfort. Ian placed a hand on Mickey’s shoulder and rubbed Beau’s ear affectionately with the other, trying to calm both of them down.

“Charlie, this is Mickey.  Mickey, this is Charlie,” Ian clarified.  “And this big boy is Beau,” Ian stated as he rubbed the top of Beau’s head again with his other hand.

“Nice to meet both of you,” Charlie replied. He seemed to back down a little when Mickey noticed a look pass between them. 

Ian turned to face Mickey. “Mickey, the elevators are right over there.” He pointed in their general direction and Mickey saw the sign above them.  “Why don’t you and Beau head over there and wait for me.  I won’t be but just a sec.”

“Um, okay.” Mickey turned warily and headed in that direction with Beau at his side.  What the hell was Ian doing?  Mickey watched Ian from where he stood in front of the elevators.  He was still at the front desk and was now leaned over whispering something at Charlie and pointing his thumb back in Mickey’s direction.  As Ian spoke, Charlie’s eyes got wider and he glanced over at Mickey once and then turned his attention back to Ian. 

Ian turned on his heel and walked quickly to where they were standing.  He noticed Charlie’s face now held a shocked expression and frankly, he looked like he was scared to death. “You guys ready to go up?” Ian asked cheerily as he pressed the up button.

“What the hell did you say to that guy?” Mickey asked as the elevator dinged and the doors opened for them to step in. Ian hit the button for the top floor.  Of course he would live on the top floor.

Ian leaned against one side of the elevator while Mickey and Beau stood across from him on the other side. “I told him that if he gives you guys any shit when you come to see me or even look at you the way he just did, I will have his ass fired so fast, it will make his head spin.”

“I didn’t mean to cause any problems for you, man.”

“As long as he treats my guests right, there won’t be any problems.”

“Damn, Gallagher, that was bad ass.”

“You can take the boy out of the South Side, but you can’t take the South Side out of the boy.”

Mickey couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the cliché.  But yet again, something that should have been completely lame, Ian managed to make it sexy as hell. Mickey’s lip tugged at one side while they stared each other down.  “That was really hot.”

“Oh yeah? How bad do you want to kiss me right now?”

“Really fucking bad.”

“But if we do that, I know for a fact, we won’t ever get to breakfast.”

“Fuck breakfast.”

Mickey pushed himself off the elevator wall toward Ian with Ian doing the same, and they met in the middle, colliding together, hands exploring each other’s bodies and lips pressed together hotly.  Mickey’s lips parted, allowing Ian’s tongue access and he took full advantage.  They kissed long and deep, Ian running his fingers through Mickey’s dark hair and tugging ever so slightly.  Mickey moaned, which excited Ian even more. He placed his hands on Mickey’s shoulders and pushed him back, guiding him toward his side of the wall and slamming him against it, never breaking their kiss.  Ian reached his hands around to Mickey’s ass and pushed his hips toward his own, rubbing his hardening dick against Mickey’s while giving his ass a tight squeeze with his hands.

They were so enthralled in each other that they didn’t even notice that Beau had moved to the other side of the elevator out of their way. In fact, they didn’t notice anything else until the elevator dinged, alerting them that they had reached Ian’s floor.  They finally broke apart from each other except for their foreheads with Ian pressing his against Mickey’s and placing a light kiss on his lips.  Ian never took his eyes off of Mickey as he reached over and pressed the “door open” button. “Let’s go before I fuck you right here in this elevator.”

“Mmm…..sounds good to me.” Mickey smiled mischievously up at Ian.

“Don’t tempt me, baby,” Ian warned playfully. “We will definitely have to try that some time, though. Come on, boys.”

Mickey grabbed Beau’s leash and followed Ian out of the elevator.  “Lead the way, Dr. Gallagher.”

Ian turned and cut his eyes at Mickey.  Mickey knew exactly what that did to him.  The fucker.  And he really wanted to continue what they started in the elevator.  They would get to breakfast eventually, because Ian never went back on a promise, but most likely it would end up being dinner.

___________________________________________________________________________

They barely made it to the apartment and got Beau and Lucy settled before they were in Ian’s plush, king sized bed, fucking like teenagers.  The sex with Mickey was incredible, and undoubtedly the best Ian had ever had, and he had had a lot.  Mickey was so fearless and up for anything, he knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it.  That turned Ian on so fucking much.  A lot of the guys Ian had been with were intimidated by him, either his dick was too big or he was too aggressive.  Not Mickey. Mickey took his dick like nobody ever had and the more aggressive he got with Mickey, the more Mickey seemed to like it, based on the sounds he made which, in turn, excited Ian even more. 

But it was more than just the sex.  Mickey was the first guy Ian actually enjoyed being around when they weren’t fucking.  He didn’t annoy the hell out of him like most guys did.  He was funny as hell and a total smart ass, which Ian loved, since he was a smart ass himself.  They had similar upbringings that Ian felt bonded them together.  Mickey didn’t talk much about his parents, but what he did tell Ian sounded very familiar to his own experiences.  It was nice just to have somebody that just got it, that understood about being from the South Side and what that meant. 

When Ian found the space for his clinic and opened it a few months later, his colleagues thought he was crazy for opening a clinic on the South Side and told him as much.  But Ian didn’t let that deter him one bit.  The South Side was in his blood and he wanted to give back to the community in his own way, and this was it. He worked with his clients when they couldn’t pay their vet bill, and gave free spaying and neutering during certain times and days of the week.  It was the least he could do.  He understood completely how hard it was living there, and he couldn’t live with himself if he knew he was the reason someone couldn’t pay their light bill that week or couldn’t buy groceries for their kids. 

Ian didn’t expect to feel like he did having Mickey and Beau in his home with him.  He knew it would be nice having them there, of course, but he didn’t know he would feel so deliriously happy and overwhelmed.  He never knew that he was missing anything, until now.  It was so surreal to him to finally have something he never even knew he wanted. Mickey made him so damn happy, and he didn’t want the feeling to end.  He had a feeling that Mickey felt the same way, but he didn’t want to overanalyze anything.  For now, he was just going to enjoy it. 

Breakfast ended up being lunch.  Ian had gotten up out of the bed after their last fuck session and left Mickey in bed since he had dozed back off to sleep. About an hour later, Ian was at the stove cooking when he heard Mickey walk up behind him, then felt him wrap his arms around his waist.   “Mmmm, that smells good.”

“About time you got up, sleepyhead.” Ian turned his head and placed a kiss on Mickey’s lips. “Did you sleep good?”

“Yeah, too good. Somebody wore my ass out.”

“It’s such a cute ass though.” Ian waggled his eyebrows at Mickey, a smirk forming on his lips.

“Not as cute as this one,” Mickey teased as he bent down and put his index finger in the waistband of Ian’s sweat pants and pulled them down along with his boxer briefs and placed a loud smacking kiss on his ass cheek, making Ian jump in surprise. “So what are you making, Gallagher?”

“Let’s see, eggs, sausage…..um…..” Ian tried to concentrate on Mickey’s question, but he was now flush up against Ian’s back, rubbing his hands all over his chest then around to his shoulders and massaging him with expert hands.  Where in the hell did he learn how to do that? “I can’t think when you are doing that, baby.”

“Oh, sorry.” Mickey pushed away from him and moved to walk away but Ian grabbed him and pulled him back to him.

“Don’t you fucking stop.”

Once Mickey was back in his spot, Ian reached his hands around and found Mickey’s ass cheeks and started massaging them at the same time Mickey began massaging his shoulders again. “God damn, that feels good, Ian.”

Ian could feel Mickey’s hard on pressing against his ass and he knew if they didn’t stop what they were doing, they would be right back in bed, which wasn’t the most terrible idea, but dammit, they had to eat some time. Ian turned around and pushed Mickey gently away, but not before kissing him lightly to soften the blow.  “Baby, I’m sorry, but if we don’t stop, we’ll never eat.”

Mickey laughed in understanding.  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I just can’t help myself around you. You drive me fucking crazy, Ian.”

Mickey looked into Ian’s eyes with such heat that it took Ian’s breath away a little bit. “Believe me, you drive me crazy too, Mick. It’s taking everything in me not to take you back into that bedroom again.” Mickey smiled as if that’s exactly what he wanted, so he turned away from him to resume his cooking. Mickey walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of orange juice and made them both a glass.  Ian made eggs, sausage, and toast for them and eggs, mild sausage, bread, and boiled potatoes for Beau and Lucy. 

They sat at the dining room table while Beau and Lucy ate their meal in the kitchen. Mickey took his first bite of eggs and closed his eyes and hummed his appreciation. “Mmmm……Oh my god, Ian.  This is so good.” He chewed slowly, savoring each bite.

“I don’t know if it’s an insult or a compliment that you make the same noises you’re making now when we are having sex.”

“Fuck you, I do not.”

“Yes, you do!”

“Are you complaining,  Firecrotch?” Mickey cocked his eyebrows as he took another huge bite of eggs and sausage.

Ian smiled at the nickname.  It was something only Mickey could come up with, and he loved it. “Not at all, detective.”

After they finished eating and cleaning the kitchen, they were lounging on the couch together, kissing lazily while Beau and Lucy played nearby.  Ian had Mickey’s ass in his hands, cupping it firmly while Mickey straddled Ian’s waist and caged him in with his hands resting on the arm of the couch on either side of Ian’s head.  Suddenly, Ian felt Mickey’s phone buzzing in his back pocket. Reluctantly, he broke their kiss and Mickey looked at him quizzically.

“Your ass is vibrating, baby.”

“Fuck, I can’t help it, you just have that effect on me, Doc.”

Ian let out a small laugh and smiled up at the man above him, silently cursing modern technology and the inventor of the cell phone. “No, Mick.  It’s your phone. It’s ringing.”

Reality set in finally and Mickey came out of the sex-crazed stupor he was in and frantically reached for the device in his back pocket. “Shit, it might be my boss.” Mickey swiped the screen and put the phone to his ear. “Milkovich.” Ian looked on in interest, watching Mickey’s facial expression as he listened to whoever was on the other line. “Fuck yes! Thank you, boss. I know. I will.”

Mickey jumped up and started putting on his boots and gathering his stuff in a hurry. “Where are you going?”

“I’m sorry, Ian, I gotta run.  That was my boss. We got the search warrant for that mechanic shop I was telling you about. I’m finally going to get that fucker.”

Ian swallowed down the disappointment that came in the form of a lump in his throat.  He didn’t want to quell Mickey’s excitement. He knew he had been anxious to get that phone call and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it with his selfishness at wanting them to stay. He got up from the couch and started helping Mickey get all his stuff together.  Mickey was putting Beau’s leash on him when Ian walked up to him so they could say their goodbyes.

When Mickey stood back up, Ian put his hands on his shoulders and looked at him with beaming pride. “I’m so proud of you, Mick.  I hope you get that fucker, too.” Mickey chuckled and they hugged each other tightly.  Ian hated to see them leave, but he certainly understood.  This case meant a lot to Mickey since it was so personal, and he knew Mickey was good at what he did and loved doing it. “I knew my sister was wrong about you.”

The words were out of Ian’s mouth before he realized what he was saying.  Mickey’s body went completely still, frozen. Ian hoped for a second that he hadn’t heard him, but his body language told him the truth. Ian winced and mentally kicked himself, but the damage had already been done. “What did you just say?”

Mickey pushed Ian lightly away from him, looking up at him with a sudden anger that Ian had not seen before. Ian tried to gather his thoughts but it was hard with Mickey looking at him like that. He didn’t want to piss him off any more than he already had.  “Look, Mick.  It was just something stupid my sister Debbie said about how she knew you from the South Side.”

“Bullshit, Ian! You said your sister was wrong about me.  What the fuck was she wrong about? Huh?” Mickey was now pacing back and forth, his boots pounding heavily on the hardwood floor.

“Mick, it’s not important.  I didn’t believe her anyway.” Ian tried to place his hands on Mickey’s arms as he passed by, but he pushed them away.

“Tell me, goddammit!” Mickey yelled as he stopped pacing to look Ian straight in the eyes.

Ian shrugged his shoulders dejectedly.  He knew he had to tell Mickey the truth, he owed him that much.  Fucking Debbie. “She said that you were bad news.  That you got into a lot of trouble growing up and that I shouldn’t get involved with you.” Ian watched Mickey’s reaction as he spoke.  There was a mixture of shock and more anger, but worst of all, he looked humiliated. Ian hated seeing Mickey like that, it just tore him up inside. “I told her that she……”

Mickey interrupted Ian before he could finish, pointing his finger in Ian’s face. “See, this is exactly why I am leaving this goddamn town, because of shit like this!  I’m so sick and tired of everybody looking down on me and judging me for how I was back then.  I’m not that boy anymore and I am certainly not my homophobic prick of a father!”

Ian felt like he had been punched right square in the gut.  Did he hear Mickey right? Tears started welling in his eyes and pain radiated through his chest. His voice cracked as he spoke. “You’re leaving?”

It was Mickey’s turn to wince regretfully. He sighed and thumbed his lip nervously. Finally, he spoke. “I accepted a job in Cypress Beach, CA. I’m leaving as soon as Max’s case is solved. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“You’re sorry? Really?

“Yes I am.  Look, Ian…..” Mickey tried to step toward Ian but Ian just backed away from him.  Mickey put his hands up in surrender and stepped back where he was. “Look, I didn’t expect to meet you and fall…..”

Ian’s head shot up at Mickey’s words.  He regretted it instantly because Mickey stopped to gather his thoughts, sighed loudly, and changed the subject, not finishing what he had been about to say. “Look, I don’t even know how long it will be before I leave.  Fuck knows this case is moving as slow as snail shit.”

Ian’s sadness suddenly turned to anger as the reality of what Mickey had just said sank in. “But you knew, Mickey.  You knew you were leaving, and you didn’t tell me?”

“Oh, like you were so fucking honest? Did you tell me that your sister warned you about me, the worthless, piece of shit South Side thug?”

“That’s not what she said.  And how is that even remotely the same thing? You’re moving half way across the fucking country! You didn’t think to mention that little bit of information to me?”

“Whatever, man.  I gotta go.” Mickey grabbed Beau’s leash and turned toward the front door.

“Yeah, you do. Get the fuck out of my house and don’t ever call me again, got it?”

Mickey turned around slowly, his mouth falling open in shock. “That the way you want it?” he asked softly.

Ian’s hands were on his hips defiantly and his chest heaved as he breathed hard, radiating anger, forcing the tears back that threatened to fall.  No way in hell he was going to let Mickey see him break.  He nodded his head. “Yep, that’s exactly the way I want it.”

Ian was staring at a picture on the wall beside the door, looking anywhere really.  Anywhere but at Mickey.  He just couldn’t look him in the eye, it hurt too much.

Mickey nodded and opened the front door.  Once Beau was out, he closed the door quietly behind him. Ian stood there like a statue, not able to move for a few seconds.  Once he was sure that Mickey was out of earshot, he slammed the side of his fists against the door as hot tears pricked his eyes and fell down his cheeks. He turned and slid down the door and sat on the floor for the longest time, heart wrenching sobs escaping him as he hung his head miserably

 Lucy walked up to him and licked his tear-stained face, but even she couldn’t make him feel any better about what had just happened. Finally, she gave up trying and just laid beside him as he cried, laying her head in his lap, letting his tears fall in her fur.

Ian didn’t know that Mickey stood on the other side of the door, listening as he cried, crying tears of his own.  He almost knocked on the door because hearing Ian crying like that made Mickey feel like someone just stabbed him in his chest with a knife and the pain was shooting through his whole body. But instead, he decided to honor Ian’s wishes and finally, when it became too much for him to bear, he and Beau left Ian’s apartment building and headed back home.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Ian and Mickey work out their problems? Will Mickey be able to solve the murder case?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks, this is the end of my fic, Milkovich and Beau. This was my first attempt at an AU and I don't know if I did a good job or not, but this was a learning experience and will hopefully help me if/when I decide to write another Gallavich AU. I want to thank you all for taking the time to read my story, and for your comments and kudos. They mean more to me than you will ever know.

Chapter 8

  The heavy rain beat against Ian’s office window while the thunder clapped overhead so loudly that it sounded like it was right there in the room with him.  Fitting, he thought.  The weather was a reflection of his mood, dark and gloomy.  Ian glanced at his cell phone for what had to be the millionth time just that morning, hoping foolishly to see Mickey’s handsome face pop up with an incoming call.  Ian had spent the majority of the rest of the weekend holed up in his apartment, drinking his pain away.  The only problem was, it didn’t work.  If anything, it made it worse.  He would get sloppy drunk and that in turn made him want to call Mickey, if for nothing more than to just hear his voice.  But hearing him would just make him want to see him, and seeing him would undoubtedly make him want to fuck him. Luckily, he hadn’t gone through with it, no matter how many times he tried. He told himself that he did the right thing over and over, but he just missed Mickey so much it physically hurt. He ached for him, longed to be near him again, just to touch him and feel that connection that drew him to Mickey in the first place.

  His head was able to make sense of the situation.  Mickey wasn’t truthful with him about his plans to move across the damn country.  He should have been honest with Ian from the get go.  Ian was so pissed that Mickey didn’t just tell him.  How selfish can one person be? And there was no sense in continuing a relationship with someone who was going to be halfway across the country.  Long distance relationships never worked most of the time, but if Mickey had been honest with him, he might have been willing to at least try.  He cared about Mickey so much that he would have made the effort. 

   But even though his head had worked through those things, he wished someone would explain it to his heart.  Yes, Ian had fallen unequivocally in love with Mickey Milkovich.  He had gone so long without letting anyone in, that he was afraid that he had a permanent wall around his heart that no man could break down.   But Mickey somehow was able to do it.  He became Ian’s demolition man, breaking that shit down, piece by piece.  It felt so good, at least for a little while.  But that’s the problem with love, wasn’t it? You allow yourself to love, you are taking the chance of getting hurt.  Ian thought for sure that Mickey would be the one that wouldn’t hurt him, but he realized now how wrong he was. In the simplest terms, Ian’s heart was broken.

    Ian heard the back door of the clinic open and what sounded like someone struggling with an umbrella. That had to be Debbie.  It was 8:15 in the morning and even though he told her to be there at 8:00, she was almost always late.

  “Ian, I’m here! Sorry I’m late but Franny threw up in the fucking car this morning,” she said as she shut the door and made her way down the hall toward his office. 

    A sudden burst of anger hit Ian like a punch to the gut at hearing her voice.  Maybe it was irrational, but he wasn’t in the mood to be rational this morning.  It was her fault he even said anything to Mickey that started all this shit in the first place. She put those ideas in his head.  If she hadn’t talked the way she did about him and gave him doubts about starting anything with Mickey, they would still be together.

   She made it to his doorway and stopped, big bright smile on her face.  “Good morning, Ian.  What’s on the schedule for today?”

     With one last desperate look at his phone screen, he threw the phone down on his desk and looked up at his sister with fire in his eyes.  “When I tell you to be here at  8:00, I mean fucking 8:00, Debbie.  Not 8:05, not,” he glanced at his phone again, telling himself it was to check the time, “8:17. If you’re late again, I am writing you up.”

    Ian, feeling the need to get up and move, his anger spurring him on, pushed his leather chair back so hard it slammed against the wall behind him.  He shot up and walked out of his office and past a shell-shocked Debbie.  Not to be deterred, she followed closely behind him.

     He stopped pacing and turned to face Debbie, pointing his finger at her. “You! That’s who! This was all your fucking fault.”

     “What the fuck are you talking about, Ian?”

    “If you hadn’t opened your mouth about Mickey, we would still be together. We, we……..” Ian couldn’t finish what he was trying to say.  He choked on a sob and threw himself down in the nearest chair and put his head in his hands. His anger had quickly morphed into sorrow and sadness.  A sadness so strong he could feel it in his bones.  He didn’t know how to handle all these emotions he was feeling.  He was doing a fucked up job of handling them so far. 

            He felt hands on his knees and released his head from his hands long enough to see that Debbie had bent down on the floor in front of him.

            “What happened, Ian? Tell me.” She rubbed his knees affectionately, coaxing him to talk.

            Ian sniffed and wiped the tears off his cheeks before he began. “Well, after that first time we met, Lucy got out and found her way to his place and he brought her back and we started talking and he helped me with the plumbing on that sink.” Ian pointed across the room. “And we just started hanging out and he’s sweet but also a badass detective, he’s sexy as fuck, and basically the most amazing man I’ve ever met.”

            Debbie looked up at Ian, confused. “Okay, that’s great, right?  But you said you guys aren’t together anymore? What happened?”

            Ian shook his head, not sure how to explain it or even if he wanted to.  He didn’t feel up to rehashing the events of this past weekend. But then he figured he couldn’t feel any worse than he already did, and maybe talking it out would help.  After all, he realized that he wasn’t really mad at Debbie.  He was mad at himself, for a lot of reasons.  And mad at Mickey, for another set of reasons.  But he was a grown man who made his own decisions, and it was his decision to get involved with Mickey. 

            “I told him that I knew you were wrong about him?” It came out as a question, because he still couldn’t fathom why in the world he ever told him about that.

            “Why the hell would you do that?” Debbie scoffed.

            “I don’t know, it just fucking came out. He’s got this big case he’s working on.  His friend got murdered and he’s trying to solve it, and he got this search warrant he had been waiting on to get approved and I was telling him how proud I was of him, and I don’t know, it just came out. God, I’m so fucking stupid.”

            “You’re not stupid, Ian.  You’re a Gallagher.  And you know we suck at relationships.” Ian chuckled, he couldn’t help it.  It was the absolute goddamn truth.  “So, he broke up with you over that?”

            Ian sighed out a shaky breath.  “No, not exactly.  He told me that’s why he was moving out of Chicago, because he wouldn’t have to put up with people doubting him because of his reputation.”

            “Wait, he’s moving?”

            Ian hesitated.  He didn’t want to speak it out loud, knowing that would make it all the more real.  But what difference did it make now? “Yes.  He’s moving to California.”

            “Why didn’t he tell you that from the beginning?”

            “I wish I fucking knew. He would’ve saved both of us a lot of time.”

            Debbie looked at her brother sympathetically. “Let me ask you this, Ian.  If he would have told you that he was moving at the beginning, would you have started things up with him?”

            “Yes,” Ian answered immediately.  Ian’s eyebrows shot up.  He was shocked by his own answer.  It wasn’t even a question, he now realized.  He felt like he had an epiphany.  He knew then, with absolute certainty, that he would have tried to make it work with Mickey.  He knew Mickey was worth the risk, worth the effort, worth anything he had to do to be with him.  But no sooner had he realized all this,  that his words to Mickey came crashing back down on him. 

            “Well, there’s your answer, big brother.” A look of concern crossed Debbie’s face when she saw the tears falling down Ian’s face.  “What’s the matter?”

            In between sobs, Ian tried to answer her.  “I threw him out of my apartment and told him I didn’t ever want to see him again. You should’ve seen his face, Debs. He’ll never forgive me for that.”

            “Well, if he’s as great a guy z as you say he is, he will. You don’t know until you try, right?” She put her hand on his head, rubbing lightly.  “Hey, Ian, look at me.” Ian raised his head and looked his sister in the eyes, surprised by the sincerity he saw there.  “Is he worth it?”

            There was no question in Ian’s mind that he was. Debbie’s question brought that realization home, but also the fear and doubt that Mickey would never forgive him. To Ian, it seemed hopeless.  But maybe, just maybe, Debbie was right. Ian reached for Debbie, wrapping his arms around her neck. The tears flowed freely then, as Debbie rubbed his back soothingly. They stayed like that for several minutes, Ian all the while trying to figure out when exactly his little sister became smarter than him.

            ______________________________________________________________________________

 

            Mickey’s finger hovered over the call button on his phone, Ian’s name lit up on the screen.  What the fuck was he doing? That had to have been the two hundredth time he had done this, over and over with the same result.  He always pussied out and threw the phone down before he did something he would regret.  Ian had told him not to call him again, and so far, Mickey had done what he said, as much as it was killing him.

Mickey had fucked up.  He knew just how much he had fucked up, but the realization didn’t make the situation any better. Why didn’t he just tell Ian he was leaving from the start? Because he was a selfish, self-absorbed prick who only cared about his own feelings. That’s the only conclusion Mickey could come up with. There was no other explanation. 

Mickey had single-handedly ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him. His relationship with Aaron had been great, but he was just a kid, they both were. He didn’t know anything back then, and he was a totally different person now.  He was free from his homophobic asshole father and more secure in who he was than he had ever been before. That’s why he had allowed himself to fall for Ian. Yes, he was in love with Ian.  He could deny it all he wanted, but he knew what he felt with Ian. It was real.  He had never felt more alive than when he was with him.  Ian made him realize that he deserved to be loved too.  For so long, he didn’t think he was deserving of anyone’s love.  He could thank his shithead dad for that.  He always believed that if his own dad didn’t love him, how in the fuck could he expect anybody else to? But Ian changed all that and finally made him feel something he had never felt before: worthy.

Mickey got shitfaced on Jack Daniel’s the night he went home from Ian’s place. Beau must have sensed that something wasn’t right with Mickey because the damn dog wouldn’t leave his sight.  Mickey couldn’t even take a shit without the dog lying in the doorway, watching him. He followed Mickey around everywhere he stumbled in his drunken stupor. Mickey eventually made it to his bed and passed out.  Beau spent more time in the house now and not so much in the basement anymore, so when Mickey woke up the next morning with the world’s worst hangover, Beau was lying in bed right up next to him, snoring.

Mickey wanted more than anything to talk to Ian, tell him what a fuck up he was.  This was all his fault and he knew that.  There was no other way around it.  But he was so used to fixing things.  He was from the South Side after all, and being poor and basically on your own makes you pretty ingenious.  He got out of some sticky situations by being clever.  Hell, that’s why he made such a good detective.  But he knew that, unfortunately, there was no fixing this.  Ian didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.  Mickey couldn’t blame him, but it didn’t make him hurt any less.

Mickey didn’t cry very much.  Crying was a sign of weakness, according to his dad, and that was unacceptable.  But he had cried more tears over that redhead in the last couple days than he probably had in his entire life.  Jack Daniel’s apparently turned him into a sad sack motherfucker. Between missing Ian like crazy and the added knowledge that the whole thing was his fault, he had been inconsolable.  The first guy that he actually cared about in a long fucking time who actually seemed to care about him too and Mickey had to go and fuck it up.  He couldn’t believe how unbelievably selfish he had been.  He keeps thinking back on everything that happened and wonders why he didn’t let Ian in on his plans.  He regretted that decision probably more than any other in his whole life. Because now, Mickey was alone, yet again, and heartbroken over someone who never wanted to see him again.

Mickey scrubbed his hand down his face, but no amount of scrubbing he did could erase that moment from his memory. God, that just broke him.  And hearing Ian crying at the door broke him even more, especially knowing he had caused those tears. Even if he thought their relationship could be fixed, he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven. 

So, Mickey decided to focus on something he actually could fix.  That’s why he and Beau were sitting in his car, staking out the Skylark Motel where Tony Martone was said to be staying, according to their report. Mickey was filled with a renewed purpose after the shit that went down earlier that day. He and Phelps had searched the mechanic shop, along with Beau, much to the displeasure of the owner, Gregory Henson. Mickey had told him that Beau was there on official police business, and that if he had a problem with it, he could take it up with the Chief.  Henson backed down, albeit reluctantly, and let them do their search. 

Beau was surprisingly good at doing his part in the search.  Mickey had really only brought Beau along for protection in case of trouble, but he turned out to be a damn good snuff dog, even if they didn’t find anything. It’s like he just knew all the key places to look without any guidance, like he had a natural instinct for it, even with no training.  But they still came up empty, with Mickey figuring they got tipped off somehow, which pissed Mickey off even more. Mickey was tired of the bullshit and in no mood for it anyway, considering everything else that was going on with Ian. He was determined to get to the bottom of this case, so he decided it was time to pay Martone a visit and get some answers.  Then arrest his ass for killing Max. He knew deep down he was their man, and he trusted is gut.  It very rarely steered him wrong. Martone was the one who shot and killed Max, he was the one in that car the other day, and Mickey and Beau were going to prove it. He was done being dicked around by this guy.

Mickey had sent Phelps back to the station, telling him in no uncertain terms that if he was involved in what he was about to do, he would get fired before he even got started good.  He of course had tried to find out what Mickey was planning to do, but Mickey just told him to head back and wait for word from him and not to tell the Chief anything.  He gave Phelps his word that if anything went down, he would tell the Chief that he had nothing to do with it and didn’t know anything about what he had planned. That was good enough for Phelps, who wasn’t too eager to ruin his career.

So it was just Mickey and Beau, sitting outside the hotel in his personal car to not draw any unwanted attention. They had been waiting for a couple hours now, and Mickey was getting impatient. After instructing Beau to stay put, Mickey climbed out of the car to make his way inside the hotel, Beau whining softly while watching Mickey the whole time.

The hotel was seedy at best.  It was just a one story building in an L shape, with green faded doors on each room.  You could barely make out the room numbers on the doors.  There was an old neon sign with the name of the hotel out front, but half the letters weren’t even lit up, and there was a vacancy sign just below it. Mickey opened the glass front door and a bell chimed above his head as he stepped in onto dirty orange carpet with multiple stains from fuck knows what.  It looked like it was built in the 1970’s and hadn’t ever been updated.

Mickey walked up to the front desk, where an old guy with wild, curly gray hair and a greasy tank top and khakis was sitting watching a television that also looked like it was from the 1970’s.  Did Mickey just enter a time warp or something? The old man reluctantly tore his attention away from whatever crappy TV he was watching and walked up to the counter.

“Sorry, no vacancies,” the man said abruptly as he chewed loudly on a pork rind from the bag in his hand.

“Well, the sign out front says you have vacancies.”

“Sign’s broke,” he answered quickly.

Given the state of the place, Mickey normally wouldn’t question that statement, but the way the guy was acting had Mickey’s defenses up and put him in detective mode sooner than anticipated. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway.  I’m not here to rent a room.  I’m looking for somebody and was hoping you could help me out.” The man looked at Mickey skeptically. Mickey pulled out his badge and displayed it to him. “I’m Detective Milkovich with the Chicago Police Department. I’m looking for a man named Tony Martone. Can you tell me if he’s registered here as a guest?”

A look of recognition washed over the man’s face at the mention of Tony’s name, but he quickly tried to hide it, but Mickey caught it before he did. Bingo.

The old man unsuccessfully tried to feign innocence. “Uh, um, no, there’s nobody here by that name, detective.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and cast his eyes downward. Man, Mickey thought he had seen some bad liars in his career, but this guy had to be the worst he’d ever encountered. He almost felt bad for the guy. Almost.

“Look, I know he’s here in this hotel somewhere, so you would save yourself a lot of time and trouble if you just tell me what room he’s in.  Don’t make me go to each room and disturb these folks from their, uh, shall we say, _activities_. “Anybody with half a brain knew this was the type of place that rented rooms by the hour. “So, you’re going to tell me what room he’s in Mr……..” Mickey looked at him expectantly, his eyebrows raised high, waiting for him to fill in his name.

“Porter,” he answered quietly.

“Porter. Or I’m going to have you arrested for obstruction of justice.”

    Mr. Porter gulped nervously. “Uh, what did he do?”

            Mickey was really losing his patience with this asshole. Mickey had mastered the art of remaining professional, his years of experience teaching him that, but sometimes, the South Side thug in him tried to creep up on him and he had to tamp it back down in order to not lose his job.  This was one of those times. “That is really none of your concern, Mr. Porter.  Now if you’ll just tell me that room number I’ll be on my way and let you get back to whatever it is you were doing.”

            Suddenly, Mickey felt the barrel of a gun press into the back of his head and a gruff voice speak behind him. “Good work, Porter.  Put your hands up where I can see ‘em, Milkovich. You and me are going to go for a little ride. Move it!” "Thanks. Tony." Mr. Porter had the audacity to look sympathetically at Mickey as he was turned around by his assailant. Fucking prick.

            Mickey put his hands up and started walking, the gun still pressed firmly to his head. They walked slowly into the dark night toward Mickey’s car.  Mickey usually considered himself a badass who didn’t usually get spooked by much, but even he had his limits.  And a gun pointed at his head seemed to be his.  He said shakily, “Look, Tony, we can work this out.  You don’t have to……”

            “Shut the fuck up, Milkovich! Before I blow your fucking brains all over this parking lot.”  When they got to the car, Beau was scratching wildly at the window and barking incessantly at the sight of Mickey with Tony. When Tony noticed Beau in the car, he stopped. “Oh, fuck no.  Call your guard dog off, Milkovich.  Or I will put a bullet in his skull.”

            Mickey complied. “Beau, down!” Beau didn’t listen, continuing to bark loudly. “Now, Beau!” Finally, Beau followed Mickey’s command and sat back in the back seat. Tony brought Mickey over to the driver’s side and forced him into the car, all the while keeping the gun pointed at him while he ran around and jumped in the passenger seat. Mickey didn’t think it was safe to draw his weapon, so he decided against it.  He had to come up with another plan.

            Mickey still had his hands in the air, waiting for his instructions. “Ok, crank up the car. Slowly.” 

“Can I put on my seatbelt first?”

“A fucking seatbelt? Really?”

“It’s the law, Tony.”

“What the fuck ever, man.  Just keep your hands where I can see them and don’t make any sudden movements.”

Mickey buckled his seatbelt, then slowly reached down and turned the key with a shaky hand as the engine roared to life, all the while wondering where in the hell they were heading. Tony had the gun pointed at Mickey’s temple, his eyes cutting to the backseat where Beau was sitting, a low, constant growl escaping his throat.  Mickey tried to breathe deep to calm his frazzled nerves, but it wasn’t working. “Turn right out of the parking lot.”

            Mickey put the car in drive and headed in that direction.  He did what Tony said and they were on the main highway, heading east. They drove for a few miles until finally Tony spoke up again. “Ok, turn down this next road.”

            Mickey knew from his years as a cop that this road they were turning down was basically an abandoned street that just connected to the next major highway.  He still didn’t know where they were going, but he suddenly had a plan.

            Mickey pressed his foot slowly but more heavily on the gas, causing the car to steadily speed up. Soon they were careening down the street. Mickey had both hands on the wheel to keep from losing control. He cut his eyes at Tony and noticed the panicked look suddenly appear on his face.  “Hey, man, slow the fuck down!”

            “Slow down? Okay.  Whatever you say, Tony.” Mickey slammed on the brake pedal as hard as he could, the car coming to a screeching, abrupt halt.  Tony’s body was catapulted up and out of the car’s front windshield, the impact causing glass to fly everywhere.  Mickey watching in amazement as the man’s body flew through the air and landed with a loud thud on the asphalt. Mickey drew his gun and jumped out of the car, Beau following close behind him. He walked up slowly to the injured man, gun drawn and pointed right at his chest. His head had a bad gash and there was blood pooling on the ground beneath him. His arms were outstretched, but the gun had disappeared, probably knocked out of his hand by the impact.

            He moved his head, so he wasn’t dead. As soon as he did, Beau came up to him and closed his mouth over the man’s throat. Tony’s eyes widened in horror as he struggled to breathe.

            “Guess you should’ve put on your seatbelt, too, huh? Asshole.” Tony continued to try to breathe, and began pulling on Beau’s head to try to loosen his grip. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.  Unless you don’t want to keep your Adam’s Apple“ Mickey warned.  “Beau will tear your throat right out. Kind of an interesting sensation isn’t it? Now,” Mickey leaned down next to Tony so he could look him right in his face, “you’re going to give me some fucking answers. I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to blink once for yes, and twice for no. You understand?” Tony didn’t respond, so Beau clamped down tighter and growled loudly, his slobber running down Tony’s neck. Finally, Tony blinked once. “Good, glad we understand each other.”

            Tony’s eyes darted wildly around as he gasped futilely for breath. Mickey decided to start with a question he already knew the answer to. “Tony, did you kill Max Henley?” Tony blinked once. Beau growled louder and clamped down even harder until Mickey told him to let him up on him.

 Tony, was the mechanic shop being used as a cover for a drug ring operation?” Tony blinked once. “Ok, good.”

            “Is the shop owner, Henson, the ring leader?” Tony blinked twice. “He’s not in charge?” Tony blinked twice again. What the fuck? Mickey thought for sure that slimy bastard was the leader of the whole fucking thing. He had a bad feeling about that guy from the first moment he had laid eyes on him.

            “Is he in on it?” Tony blinked once. Mickey wasn’t much closer to answers than he was before his questioning.  Before he could ask Tony any more, the man passed out cold. “Beau, off!” Beau took his mouth off the man and followed Mickey back to the car.  He jumped up into the front seat and sat down on the passenger side as Mickey jumped in the car, and instructed Beau to get in the back seat due to all of the glass in the car on that side. Mickey pulled out his phone and called an ambulance for Tony as he turned the car around and sped down the road, heading to the mechanic shop.

______________________________________________________________________________________

            Mickey pulled up slowly to the mechanic shop with his headlights off.  The place seemed quiet enough for Mickey to be able to take a look around to see what he could find out.  He just needed something.  Something to prove the fuckery that was going on inside this place. And he needed more than a coerced confession from a low life criminal like Martone. Mickey got out of the car with Beau following. Mickey bent down and took Beau’s head in his hands. “Beau, I need you to go around back and cover the back door, okay? Let me know if you see any sign of trouble.” Beau barked, and Mickey hoped like hell that meant he understood what he was saying.  Beau hadn’t disappointed him so far, so he didn’t think he would start now, not when he needed his help more than ever. “Go on, boy!” Beau took off, sprinting around the back of the building. Damn, that dog was fucking smart.

            Mickey walked up to the front door of the shop and pulled on the front door, expecting it to be locked, but it wasn’t.  That immediately put up a red flag for Mickey, so he drew his gun and walked slowly inside as the door closed loudly behind him.  He turned in all directions, looking for any signs of trouble, but there was nothing. Nothing he could see anyway.  He walked further inside, where there were cars on lifts, tools hanging on the walls and tool boxes all around the room lined up against the walls.  In one corner there were tires piled up high and various machines throughout the space.   Mickey heard a high pitched screech of some kind behind him and turned quickly and pointed his gun at the offending noise.  But he didn’t see anything.  When he decided the coast was clear, he tucked his weapon into the back of his jeans and decided to take a look around.

            He walked up to one of the cars to look inside it when he suddenly heard loud footsteps behind him. He quickly reached back for his gun, turned around, and aimed. His chief, Eugene Martin, stood before him with a shotgun in hand. “Don’t shoot, Mickey! It’s just me!”

            “Jesus H. Christ, what the fuck, Eugene! You scared the shit out of me!” Mickey exclaimed as he lowered his weapon. He let out a sigh of relief, but that relief quickly turned to confusion.  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

            “I’m here for backup, Milkovich. I know how your twisted mind works and I knew you would show up here, eventually.”

            Mickey put his gun back in his jeans. “You know me that well, huh?” Eugene nodded. “Well, I found out there is a drug ring going on, but Henson isn’t the leader.  I haven’t found out who is yet. But I will.”

            “I know.”

            Mickey looked at his boss skeptically.  “What do you mean, you know?”

            “I just meant, I know you will find out who is.”

            His boss didn’t look him in the eye as he said that.  He was hiding something and Mickey wanted to know what the fuck it was.

            “Have you found out anything, chief?”

            “Did I ever tell you I used to be a drug dealer?” Eugene asked, as he slapped the shotgun he was carrying against his palm over and over.

            “Um, no, you never mentioned that.” Mickey started replaying his questioning with Tony in his mind, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. _Is Henson the ring leader? Two blinks._

            “Yeah, I used to do all kinds of crazy shit.  I was a badass South Side motherfucker. The shit you used to do? Child’s play compared to me.”

            “So, what are you saying, Eugene? You are the ring leader of this thing?” Mickey asked nervously.  Everything Mickey ever believed to be true was a goddamn lie. He thought Eugene was one of the good guys.  He was totally fucking wrong.

            Eugene smiled wickedly at Mickey and laughed humorlessly. “Would you let me finish my fucking story here?” Mickey began slowly backing away from his boss, trying to remain calm as his world crashed around him. “I got involved in some heavy shit.  Was dealing heroin, meth, coke, anything I could get my hands on.  I had a pretty good operation going, I had a great team of henchmen. Made some great fucking money. But, as we know, it was dangerous as hell.  So one day, a drug deal went south and the cops were hot on my tail.  But one of my henchmen did something I couldn’t believe. You know what he did, Mickey?”

            Mickey shook his head as fear washed over him. 

            “He distracted the police and took the fall for me.  And he never did give my name up, which I just couldn’t fucking believe.  But that little close call made me wise up and get my shit together. So that’s why I became a cop. Good story, huh?”

            “Uh, yeah, chief. Good story.” But Mickey knew the story wasn’t over.

            Eugene continued to stalk slowly toward Mickey as he tried to back up. “So what do you know, years later, that same henchman came to me with an offer I couldn’t refuse. He served his time and now he wanted to cash in. And I always repay my debts.  So he said, since I was the chief and all, if I help him cover up his little operation here, he would cut me and Henson in. We had another good thing going, until your friend Max had to stick his fucking nose where it didn’t belong, so I took care of him.”

            “You had Max killed?”

            “Well, not me exactly. I was just following orders. And everything was fine, until your ass started snooping around.” Mickey’s eyes welled up but he wasn’t about to let this motherfucker see any kind of weakness.  This was so fucking unbelievable.  How in the hell did this happen? Eugene broke Mickey out of his reverie as he started speaking again. “And you know what the funniest thing is?” He asked rhetorically. “I mentioned your name, and all the trouble you could possibly cause for us, and my old henchman said he knew you.”

            Mickey scrunched his face up in confusion. “Knew me? How?”

            “Hello, son.” Mickey’s blood ran ice cold as he turned slowly to meet blue eyes, the same blue eyes he had, the same eyes that looked him right in his face and threatened to kill him on more than one occasion.

            Terry fucking Milkovich stood before him, shot gun in hand, with a defiant stance and a smirk on his face. All the blood drained from Mickey’s face as he stared at his father, mouth wide open in shock.  He couldn’t speak.

            “What? Cat got your fucking tongue? No ‘nice to see you, dad’?” He laughed morosely. “You always were a goddamn pussy. Guess that hasn’t changed, huh?”

            The room started to spin and Mickey thought for sure he was going to pass out.  He rubbed at his eyes, but the image didn’t change.  Terry was still fucking in front of him.  He had gone even grayer but he still had that same hateful look in his eyes. That hadn’t changed. “I thought you were in prison.”

            “You oughta know by now that anything can be bought. Or are you just that fucking stupid?”

            A slight movement behind Terry caught Mickey’s attention, and he looked over to see Beau coming up slowly behind him. He wasn’t growling, but there was a determination in his eyes aimed at Terry, his enemy targeted.  Beau knew what he needed to do without Mickey saying a word. Unfortunately, Eugene saw him too, and yelled, “Watch out behind you, Terry!”

            Terry turned around to see what Eugene was talking about, his gun aimed at whatever was waiting for him. Beau jumped several feet in the air and hurled his body at Terry, but before he landed on him, a shot from Terry’s gun rang out, and hit Beau in the chest.  He yelped out in pain, but continued on his mission and landed on top of Terry and immediately clamped down on his throat, drawing blood with his sharp teeth. He then released his throat when his breathing became labored and began biting him on his arms, chest, anywhere he could.  He attacked with a fervor Mickey had never seen before.

            Mickey watched in horror as Beau’s biting became less erratic, the more blood he lost.  He was bleeding all over Terry and Mickey was scared to death for him. 

            “Eugene! Eugene! Help me, you pussy motherfucker!” Terry cried aloud. Eugene ran over and pointed his gun at Beau.

            “No! Don’t fucking shoot him, goddammit!”

            Mickey went to reach for Eugene’s gun, but before he could reach for it, he fired a shot.  Mickey grabbed the gun and pointed it straight up in the air, Eugene firing off a couple more shots. They struggled for control of the gun until Eugene was able to turn Mickey away from him and put the gun to his throat, choking him.  Mickey grabbed either end of the gun and pushed it away from him. He kept pushing, seeing Beau’s limp body spurring him on, and finally was able to wrench the gun away from Eugene’s hands.  He hit Eugene in the face with his elbow with all his might.  Eugene grabbed his nose, which was now bleeding profusely. Mickey was finally able to get control of the gun and shot Eugene two times in the chest until he fell, lifeless at Mickey’s feet.

Mickey turned his attention to Beau, who was whimpering softly in pain.  Mickey thought Eugene had shot Beau again but apparently he shot Terry because he was dead, a bullet hole square in the middle of his head.  Mickey carefully picked Beau up in his arms and carried him to his car.  He was bleeding all over him, but Mickey didn’t give a shit. He took off his shirt and, after laying Beau down on the back seat, pressed it to his chest wound to help stop the bleeding.  He called the one person he knew could help him.

Ian’s phone rang. And rang. And rang.  There was no answer.  “Goddammit, Ian! Answer your fucking phone!” Mickey shouted. He tried again. No answer. Mickey let the tears that had been stinging the backs of his eyes flow freely now.  He had never felt so helpless in his life.  Beau was hurt and there was nothing he could fucking do.  And it was all his fault. 

Beau growled pitifully, moaning in pain. “It’s okay, boy.  You’re going to be fine.” Mickey tried Ian once again but with the same result. Mickey jumped in the driver’s seat and sped off toward the vet clinic.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Ian was having another nightmare.  Since he and Mickey had broken up, they happened more and more frequently.  And it was always the same dream.  Mickey would call him on his phone, and Ian would go to pick up the phone to answer it, and it would disappear. He would see Mickey somewhere, on the street or in a store, and would go up to him, but right when he got to him, he would disappear. It was so frustrating and had him waking up in the middle of the night in tears almost every night. Apparently, tonight would be no different.  The phone was ringing and ringing yet again.   Ian can’t go through this shit another night.  So he got up and swung his legs over the bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes.  He looked over and noticed the light indicator blinking on his phone.  It was probably Fiona or Debbie texting him about some family thing.  It was no telling with those two.

He wiped the lock screen on his phone and noticed two missed calls and a text.  That made him immediately nervous, afraid that something was wrong with his family. When he went to his call log, he saw they were from Mickey.  Holy shit.  He checked his texts and it was from Mickey too.

_11:57pm Call me. 911_

Oh fuck something’s wrong.  Ian hit the call button and waited anxiously for Mickey to answer.

“Ian? Ian?”

“Mickey? What the fuck’s wrong?”

“It’s Beau.  He’s been shot. I don’t know what to do,” Mickey cried.  

Oh, shit.  It was worse than he’d imagined in his head. This can’t be happening. “Come to the clinic right away.  I’ll meet you outside.”

“I’m headed there now. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Ian clicked off the call and jumped into action, grabbing the first shirt and pair of pants he could find.  He ran downstairs to an exam room and started preparing the space.  Beau had a gunshot wound, so he could need blood transfusions, possibly surgery.  Ian just hoped he hadn’t lost too much blood.  Ian got all of his equipment and tools ready, then came to the front window of the clinic and waited.

Mickey clicked off the call and thanked the stars above that Ian called him back.  Mickey was so distraught and panicked, he couldn’t think straight.  All he knew was that Beau needed the best care he could get, and Ian was the best, in Mickey’s eyes. Ian would fix him up and have him home in no time.  He would, Mickey knew it.

When Ian saw Mickey pull up, he ran outside and down the sidewalk, holding a large towel in his hand. Mickey got out and came around to the passenger side back seat and opened the door.  When Ian saw Beau and the tremendous amount of blood, his face went white.  But he immediately grabbed him up in the towel and carried him inside, Mickey following close behind.

He brought Beau to the exam room and laid him gingerly down on the cold, metal table. Mickey was pacing back and forth, wringing his hands nervously while Ian worked.  Ian checked the gunshot wound.  Beau was still bleeding some so Ian was working to stop that. “Well, how’s it looking, doc?” Mickey asked.

“He’s lost a lot of blood, Mickey. Good news is there is an exit wound between his shoulder blades, so at least I won’t have to do surgery to get the bullet out.” Ian listened to his heartbeat, and his face fell when he noticed how faint it was. But it fixed his face quickly before Mickey could see it.

“What can I do? Is there anything I can do? Please, Ian,” Mickey pleaded.

“Grab that stand over there.  He’s going to need blood. A lot of it.”

Mickey went over and brought the stand back with him. “Okay, what now?”

Ian listened to his heart again.  It had slowed down even further until finally, there was no heartbeat at all.  Beau lay very still, his eyes closed.  His fur was stained red with blood, but he otherwise looked at peace. Ian had seen this too many times to count and he knew what it meant.  There was nothing more he could do.  It was too late. Beau was dead.

Ian looked up into Mickey’s panicked eyes that silently pleaded with him in desperation. He took the stethoscope out of his ears and slowly shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Mick.”

“NO! NO! Beau!” Mickey fell to his knees and put his arms around Beau, sobbing uncontrollably.  “You’re gonna be okay, boy.  Ian’s going to fix you up and I’m going to take you home. You’re going to be fine, okay?”

“Mickey……”

“Do something, Ian! You fucking fix him, do you hear me?!”

Ian came around the table to where Mickey was, but he just fell back dejectedly against the wall, his cries of pain cutting through Ian’s heart like a razor.  Ian knew with absolute certainty that a razor to the heart would hurt a hell of a lot less at that moment. Ian bent down beside Mickey and just took him in his arms, let him cry, and he cried right along with him.  “I’m so sorry, Mick. So sorry.”  Ian didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but he didn’t care.  He would stay there for as long as Mickey needed him.

__________________________________________________________________________________

_Six Months Later_

            Mickey was leaning against his car, watching the officers take down the woman’s information as she talked. Her son was a drug dealer and had been missing for several days, and she filed a missing persons report. She held a small Chihuahua in her arms while she answered their questions. Mickey felt a shot of pain in his heart as he watched the dog.  Anytime he saw a dog nowadays, it made him think of Beau.  Not a day went by that he didn’t miss him. The pain had gotten easier, but it still hurt like hell, especially at times like these, when he saw owners with their dogs.

            Mickey struggled over the guilt of Beau’s death still to this day.  It was his fault that Beau had died, and no one could convince him otherwise.  If he hadn’t been trying to protect Mickey from his father, he never would have been shot.

            Fucking Terry.  Mickey also had to work through his anger at his father.  The police department provided a grief counselor for his ordeal.  Mickey thought it was fucking stupid, but he went. No amount of therapy would ever make him feel an ounce of grief over that man. Terry took yet another thing that meant so much to him, and he hated the fucker.  Hated him more than he thought he could ever hate anyone or anything, and he was glad he was dead.  He couldn’t take anything else away from Mickey.  Yeah, the counselor had a field day with him at their sessions.

            Mickey had called his brothers and sister to let them know, but they didn’t really care either. They had made plans to get together and when they did, it was actually fun.  Mickey had forgotten how much he missed those assholes.  They promised they would keep in touch better, but who knows if any of them would follow through with it.  But they were good, so that’s all that mattered to Mickey.

            Coleman walked up to him and broke Mickey from his thoughts.  He held his cell phone out to him.  “It’s your husband, Chief.  And word of warning, he sounds pissed.”

            Shit, he didn’t hear his phone ring.  He pulled his phone from his pocket and saw five missed calls. Fuck.

            “Hey, Ian.”  
           

“Where the fuck have you been, Mickey? I have been calling you for the past ten minutes!”

 

“I’m sorry, babe.  I didn’t hear my phone ring. Is everything okay?”

 

“No, everything is not okay.  You need to come home. NOW.”

 

“I’m on my way.”

 

“Good.” Ian was silent for a minute, but Mickey knew what his next question was going to be.  He always asked and Mickey figured he was probably hinting around. “Did Coleman call me your husband again?”

 

“Yes, he did.” Mickey looked up to see Coleman smirking at him.  Fucker. He was going to definitely get the graveyard for that shit.

 

“I kinda like it, babe. Don’t you think that has a nice ring to it, _husband_?”

 

“Okay, okay, enough of that shit. I’ll be home in ten minutes.”

 

“Love you.”

 

“Love you, too, Ian.”

 

Mickey hit the end call button and handed the phone back to Coleman, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “I know, I know, graveyard, what the fuck ever.  It was so worth it to see your face, Chief.”

 

“Shut the fuck up and run me home, Coleman.”

 

“Yes, sir!” Coleman saluted. 

 

After everything that happened with the mechanic shop, Mickey was lauded a hero and promoted to Chief of Police, with his partner Phelps being promoted to lead investigator.  Mickey certainly didn’t feel like a hero, and it was bittersweet for sure, but when they had the official ceremony, Ian was right there by his side, so he was happy as could be. He had the job he’d worked toward his entire career, and the man he had searched for his entire life.  Life was good. 

 Coleman pulled up outside the clinic and waited while Mickey went inside. “I’ll be back in just a sec.”

“Take your time, Chief.  I’m on the clock.”

“Shut up, Coleman.”

Mickey made his way down the sidewalk and when he entered the front door, he was met with high pitched wailing and crying.  Oh hell.

A frustrated Ian came down the stairs, one puppy stashed under each arm.  “You go deal with him, Mick.  I can’t do anything with him.  He won’t fucking listen to me.”

Mickey kissed the Collie puppies that looked just like their mom on the head, then kissed his boyfriend sweetly.  “Don’t worry about a thing, Ian.  I can handle him.” Mickey bounded up the stairs and didn’t hear Ian’s ‘yeah, right’ as he ascended.  “Okay, let’s go over the rules one more time,” Mickey bellowed. “No chewing of shoes, no sniffing of crotches, no drinking out of the toilet.” He walked down the hall and saw a pillow chewed up and feathers flying everywhere.  “And no chewing of the fucking pillows!”

Mickey opened every door he came to with no luck until he finally opened the hall closet.  There he sat, just as proud of himself as could be.  Mickey couldn’t believe how much he looked like his dad.  Like a mini-Beau.  No matter what he did, he just couldn’t get mad at that face. He yelled out for Ian’s benefit, “This is not your room!” He then crouched down in front of the puppy and picked him up in his arms. “Keep this between you and me, don’t tell Ian. I can’t punish my best buddy, now can I? No, I can’t.” The puppy tilted his head up and licked Mickey on the nose. Yeah, he was a goner.  He stood no chance against those big, beautiful eyes that looked so much like his dad.  “Let’s go downstairs and get you a treat, how’s that sound?”

The puppy yapped happily and his tail wagged. Mickey stood up and turned to head toward the stairs, but Ian was standing right there in the hallway, his hands on his hips.  “Jesus, Ian, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Did I just hear you say you were going to get him a treat? After all the shit he tore up? Really, Mickey?”

“Babe, he’s just a puppy.  He’s basically a child.  Are you really going to punish our child for doing something that’s just part of his nature?”

“Oh, so destroying my home is part of his ‘nature’?”

“He didn’t mean to, Ian.  See, he’s very sorry.” Mickey held the dog up to Ian’s face and he licked Ian’s nose too.  The dog was a natural charmer.

Ian couldn’t help but smile at the goofy pair.  “Just go on and get your damn treat.” He swatted Mickey playfully on the ass as he walked by.

As Mickey joined the other puppies downstairs and rolled around and played with them for a few minutes, and then looked up to see his boyfriend coming down the stairs, smiling brightly at them, Mickey knew without a doubt that he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. He had everything he could ever want in life. He missed Beau every fucking day, but when he looked around at all the adorable puppies surrounding him, he knew that somewhere, Beau was watching, and he was damn proud.

 

 

 


End file.
